Phantom of the Opera 2
by Angel-with-a-Flower
Summary: Ya, really original title...Basically the story retold almost 135 years later. Perhaps Christine Daai wasn't his soul mate?
1. Chapter 1

Title: Phantom of the Opera 2  
Series: Movie: Phantom of the Opera (2005)  
Summary: Basically the story retold almost 135 years later. Perhaps Christine Daai wasn't his soul mate?  
A/N: I don't own the Phantom or any of those related characters. They belong to Andrew Lloyd Webber...actually, they are Gaston Leroux's characters. Everyone else, however, belongs to me.  
Oh, and a special note, this is basically a first draft, which I am posting to see what everyone thinks and suggests. Thank you!  
Rating: PG-16 (for slight language, sensual ness, and frankly, everyday life that no one should worry about until they're a teenager anyways)

----Prelude-----

It was a night of blistering heat, of fearful cries, of tongues of pain. The inky black darkness was punctured by flames which lashed out from the Grand Opera House. Word in passing was that the famous Opera Ghost had made a disastrous appearance in the middle of Don Juan, sending the exquisite glass chandelier crashing down upon the seats and igniting the entire house ablaze. People outside the majestic stone steps gasped and cried in both soulful pain and fear. Wide eyes reflected the damage like glass windows into the crowds' souls. After the smoldering and damaged house was finally put out, there was nothing that gave clue to the mysterious ghost's whereabouts.  
One hundred Thirty-five years later, and hundreds of miles across a vast sea, a woman just turning twenty awoke from her fitful slumber with tears etching down her pale cheeks.

----Ch 1-----

"Yo, Ange'!" An annoyingly bright voice, whose only rival was the sun streaming across her squinted eyes, pierced the serene silence that was known as the 'peace before the day starts' moment of her morning. "Do you want anything before we go? Ange'? Annnnnnnnnnnnnngel...come on!" A rap on the door's wooden frame caused her to bury her face deeper into the pillow and groan. "Come on already! Get up! The plane leaves in a hour and a half...we don't want to be late!" The pregnant pause was followed by the sounds of feet padding across worn carpeting, a radio system being fiddled with, the loading of a CD. "Child of the wilderness/ Born into emptiness/ Learn to be lonely/ Learn to find your way in darkness..." A woman's sorrowful voice filled up the room. She slowly withdrew her face from the folds of the pillow's cold and cottony refuge to stare hazily at her overly awake, happy companion.

"Get up."

"Don't you know it's dangerous to wake someone up too early with depressing music?" She asked groggily. Her roommate, a twenty-one woman of five-foot-two with a wine red pert haircut, just rolled their eyes.

"Get. Up." Was all the friend said as an egg timer went off. Rubbing at her eyes, she watched her companion race out of her bedroom.

"Seriously. That most likely could lead to deep depression, suicidal tendencies and other such nonsense or scientific whoo-haw..." She continued on loudly, for the benefit of her friend in the kitchenette, swinging her legs out over the edge of the mattress and onto the carpet.

"Crystal...seriously..."

"Get up or I'll find your hell-awful cat and throw it on you!" Was the only reply. She smiled to herself and ran her fingers through her long and wild, bed-headed, dark-blond nest of hair. As she dragged her limp form from the tangled sheets, she could hear Crystal happily whistling a broken tune. She groaned to herself and got up on wobbling legs, groping for the back of her chair to steady herself.

"It has to be illegal to be that happy in the morning..." She muttered, stretching up onto her toes and drawing a size-too-large pair of dark blue jean (with a few hole-rips here and there) on over her legs. Snagging an out-stretched scrunchy, she combed her fingers through her hair once more and tied it back in a loose ponytail. Passing the mirror without a glance, she shuffled down the hall towards the smell of frying eggs.

"Angel, are you honestly going to wear that on the plane?" Crystal asked skeptically, eyeing the friend's ruffled tank top and the jeans which were practically falling off her butt.  
"Nooo...I was planning to wear this dishonestly onto the plane." She sneered, plopping down into the first chair she collided with, laying her forehead on the cool plate in front of her. In response to Crystal's sigh, she muttered into the empty plate "No, I was going to wear something else entirely. Something nice."

"Nice for you means something clean, casual and free from paint stains for the next hour or two." She smiled at the last part of Crystal's comment and lifted her head in response to "Egg?"

"Thank you...and I promise to wear something nice-nice, like a button-down dress shirt or whatever." She sighed contently and picked up the fork. Crystal sat down across from her friend and smiled.

"Thank you. Now, eat up. The plane takes off in an hour or so, and the trip will take at least three hours."

"Couldn't get something shorter?" She asked, raising her eyebrow. Crystal laughed.

"With enough seats for all of us in one shot! Ha!" She smiled at her friend's zealous laughter. When it died down long enough for some eggs to be eaten, a conversation arose. "Mmm...why the comment? Thought you liked flyin'."

"I do. Just was teasing. Everything is--" She paused to swallow a bite of egg, then continued.  
"--sorry. Everything is so high-speed, internet speed, techno-whatever these days..." Crystal nodded, knowing full well that the companion was happy to take things slowly.

"You are so old-fashion." Crystal teased, receiving a grin.

At the Airport

"Keep it together people!" The voice of the instructor rang out from the weave of noise, catching the twelve students' attentions. Looks were exchanged, smiles shot over the heads of other inhabitants of the airport, and the scattered students regrouped around their teacher. "Now, look. That is your terminal." The tutor pointed to the cavernous opening behind him, then handed each student a ticket.

"These are your tickets. Do not loose them, since you will be boarding in a moment or two. You twelve were selected--"

"More like volunteered willingly for." A twenty-two year old, pale with even paler blond hair and eyes like blue spun glass, whispered behind her. She smiled and nodded, shushing him.

"--for this trip. This trip is not a break from Collage, this is not a vacation or a spring break in August. This is for learning. This is for knowledge. This is for making yourself a few extra credits. Do not blow this." The instructor shot a look at the open mouth ready to comment, glaring at the pale man. "I mean it. Now, bon voyage."

"Looks like you've been busted, Marius." She laughed as the man shut his mouth, chagrined but still cocky.

"Aw---let's just board already and get this going." Marius laughed, shouldering a dark green carry-on. Nodding, she picked up her battered denim bag and followed.

"What were you going to say?" She asked, lightly touching the back of his shirt as they were jostled slightly by the boarding crowd.

"Just that it was just like a spring break, except that we were earning credits for not even being there. We could be lounging on the beach and we'd still be earning double credits! They wont know what we're doing, so it's going to party central." Marius grinned again as they took their seats. Fastening her seatbelt, she smiled to herself and prepared for the flight, drawing out a CD player and twin earbuds.

Fifteen minutes into the Flight

"Crystal! Knock it off!" Jack was shouting, his bass voice booming right behind her ear, making her wince in pain. As she turned around, the sight that met her made her wish she hadn't looked. Crystal, with wine-red hair swinging, was headbanging to some sort of music that was screaming only to the kid-like woman, silent to those around her. Jack, a rather rugged looking twenty-two year old with slicked back black hair, was unfortunate to be seated next to the British loving punk rocker. On Crystal's other side was Elisabet (whom everyone called Liz), twenty-one with black and red streaked hair cropped close to the scalp in a fuzzy halo, laughing loudly at the neighbor's antics. Without taking out her earbuds, she reached behind her seat and flipped Crystal's laptop closed. The click of the lid smacking the computer's base, followed by a screech akin to a cat being dropped into a fridge pool from the cut-off rocker, woke Marius up from his sleep. Turning back around, she merely smiled at him and went back to her CD.

The rest of the plane trip went a little more smoothly.

Landing in Paris' International Airport

Gazing around, she was only slightly less lost than her eleven companions. Not by very much, though.

"Angel...do you have any idea where we're suppose to go?" Crystal beseeched, clinging to the friend's arm for dear life. Shrugging slightly, she led the students along towards the food court, hoping to find a table big enough for them to relax for a moment and gather up their belongs. "Ange', what if we don't find this tour guide-bus-thingy before it leaves? What if we end up stuck here?" Crystal watched as the tired friend stepped up onto the plastic seat, attempting to get a bird's-eye-view of the foreign airport. "Ange'?"

"Oh, knock it off. We'll find it." She replied, glancing about. Heads everywhere, a sea of bodies, was expanding off into the horizon of gigantic glass panes and automatic doors. Suddenly, she spotted a sign that bore the French equivalence to 'Here is the bus, you dumb tourists!', making her smile. "There it is. Come on, already." She sighed, rounding up the other students and leading the way. They shoved, squirmed, scooted around, and basically swam their way through the crowd towards the bus' emblem.

"Yes! Just enough seats!" Michel crowed, the twenty-one year old with lime-green spiked hair flopping down into a patched bus seat. The ten other collage students followed his example and snagged their own seats accordingly. Gazing out the dust streaked window, her head jerked slightly as the bus went into motion, and the bright sunlight danced before her eyes.

"So, Angel, what was your paper about?" Marius asked, bumping shoulders playfully as the bus trundled along its route. Blinking to rid herself of the burning splinters that skipped behind her eyelids, she turned and raised her eyebrows in a silent question. "You know, the paper that got you this trip? Mine was about Notre Dame and its various wars or whatever. I actually BS'ed it and copied some junk off the 'net. How about you?"

"Um...I wrote about the architecture and how my family's bloodline was prone towards the arts." Past the miniature lightning bolts that still lingered, she could tell that her companion was clueless. "You know, how my Great Grandmother was a famous dance instructor, my Great Grand-Uncle was a violinist, my Great Aunt was an opera singer, my grandmother was a dancer..." She paused. "You have no idea, do you?"

"Uh-heh heh heh...no." Marius answered, attempting to inject a hint of bashfulness or apology into his voice, but failed terribly. She just sighed and turned back to the window. The rest of the bus ride was silent between the two of them.

"Hey, Ange'! Can you show Jack that picture you were inking yesterday?" Elisabet asked, turning around in the seat. Glancing up, she flashed a quick smile and reached down to pull the sketchbook out of her denim backpack. Handing it over, she took the waves of "Ooh"s and "Wow"s humbly.

"Awesome! Are you going to keep working on that?" She whipped out a metal-tipped pen as an answer, much to the friends' delight.

"Just be careful not to get any of that ink or pencil smudges on your good clothes, Angel." Crystal warned, frowning at the returned eye roll. "You're prone to that, and you know it! Just be tidy, alright? We are going to be meeting someone important or whatever for dinner, so keep it clean!"

Twenty minutes later

"Wow!" Was all that she had to say.' Wow' was all that she could say when the sight of the Grand Opera House greeted her. Hardly waiting for the ten other students to dismount, she dashed up the crumbling stone steps and threw open the great doors. Rushing inside, she slowed her pace to marvel at the intricate details in the wall plasters and other decorations. She looked up at the faded-painted ceiling, the resurrected candelabra, and she smiled. A smile full of warmth, of joy, of a sense of home. She, with those graphite smudges and pen smears across her skin, smiled.

This is the darkness again.  
This is the light.  
This is the Opera house.


	2. Chapter 2

----Ch 2-----

"This is what you flew half way around the world for?" A voice teased. She spun around, her arms extended like a whirly-toy, and gave Crystal a grin. "All this dust and grime and such? I can see why. Its actually beautiful." She shot her friend a disbelieving but playful smirk. "Really!" Crystal laughed. Three or so more students filed in slowly after Crystal, milling around and glancing about.

"Hey, Angel! While you're up there, why don't you give us a little tune?" Elisabet called, a grin splayed behind the words. She shook her hair, wispy strands of dark blond whipping across her face.

"N-no, I couldn't..." She protested, but was quickly overruled. "Fine! Fine! What should I sing?" She asked, a slight undertone of sarcasm hinting in her words, as if she doubted anyone would know any piece true enough to grace this particular stage properly.

"How about that one song you found...you know, the one your great aunt sang the first time she was on stage?" Crystal suggested. Raising an eyebrow, she chewed on the inside of her lip, rolling the delicate skin in between her incisors in thought, then nodded and took a deep breath.

"Think of me/ think of me fondly/ when we've said goodbye/ Remember me/ once in a while--" She ducked her head slightly, out of embarrassment or something else, the others could not tell. "Please promise me/ you'll try/ When you find/ that, once again, you long/ to take your heart back/ and be free/ if you ever find/ a moment/ spare a thought/ for me."

"Oh, come on! More! Bravo! More!" The other four teased.

"We never said/ our love/ was evergreen/ or as unchanging/ as the sea/ but if you can still/ remember/ stop and think/ of me..." There was more applause and shouts of bravos as the final high note faded, making her blush deeply. Up in the abandoned balcony seats, a certain set of eyes was watching the students and felt a strong tug in his chest.

"Can it be? Can it be Christine?" He gasped in the shadowy alcove. Jumping from his cushiony seat, he rushed silently back behind the walkways and out onto the hidden catwalks. No, no this child was not his beloved Christine, who he knew was long dead, but she was similar. Her eyes carried the same bright light, her stance was a tall dancer's, and her voice---oh, her voice!---her voice was exactly the same. Could this not be his beloved Christine, back from the grave, in another's form?

"Come on, Ange'! Lets get this show on the road!" One of the male students called from the doorway, making her jerk her head once more in a semi-bow and clamber down from the stage. So, her name was Ange? What sort of name is...

"So, where is the hotel, anyways?" His thoughts was interrupted by her voice, drawing his attention back down to the floor below. She had caught up with both Crystal and Elisabet, linking arms with her friends.

"Oh, about a block or two away." Crystal shrugged. "Why Angel? Want to see if you can keep running back and forth between the hotel and the Opera House?" She easily laughed off the teasing comment, shaking her head.

"No, I was just wondering because we've missed the bus...Oh!" She paused and then raced back to the stage, just below where he stood. He watched as she stooped to collect her forgotten bag, then retreated into the shadows when she looked up.

"Hey, Angel! What's the hold up?" Elisabet called from the doors. She paused, her eyes searching, and he held his breath. Had she caught him? Did she see his shadow hovering over the satchel as he leaned over the railing of the catwalk to get a better look at this girl?

"Nothing...I just thought..." She shook her head again and ran up the isle towards her friends. He waited until they had disappeared past the doors, waited until he could no longer see their retreating shadows, then moved silently across the catwalk. He walked plank after plank, his body heading for a certain spot, but his mind racing in another direction entirely. Her name was Angel. Fitting. She sang like one. These grouping friend would be a distraction, but he was sure that he could find a way to mold her, to shape her, allow her to become an Opera star---

"No!" He whispered furiously to himself out loud. The days of the Opera were over. He paused, glancing out one of the high windows, down to overlook a group of eleven young men and women wandering aimlessly down the street with her in the outer fringe. No, those days were over. The world no longer cared of the magical beauty of song, only of their loud machines and annoying noises of other items unbeknown to him. Horse- drawn carriages replaced by these metal cage-like things called cars. Opera replaced by ear-splitting noise, of people screaming from these gigantic black music boxes. He shook his head, moving to the next window, keeping the students in his sight. No, it would never work. Even if it did, the past could be repeatable, could be disastrous. He shook his head again, frowning as they rounded a corner out of his sight. He was sure that he would never see this earthed Angel again. Or, at least, that was what he tried to convince himself.


	3. Chapter 3

----Ch. 3-----

The very next morning, she was back. Denim backpack slung over her shoulder, arms loaded with what looked like folders, she was opening the grand hall's doors just as the sun was beginning to show in the room. It was only the fact that he had worked all night the eve before on a new aria that he was aware of her presence. The stirrings and creaks of old wood drew his attention from the organ to rise up to the stage level of the House, where he found her crouched against a pillar, the skritching of a pen against paper the only sound. She came into his Opera House without a word, working, silent save for a few intermittently sung tunes throughout the day, and left at dusk. And she did that every day for a week. Then two.

He became accustom to having her there quickly. They worked side-by-side, she unaware of him, he always watching her artwork progress. Some mornings he allowed himself to sleep in slightly, her voice echoing down into the Opera House's lower levels and throughout his lair, waking him in the late morn, a pleasant event for him to wake up to for sure. He would make his way up to the ground level of the Opera House and find her studying some part of the architecture with her artistic eye. She rarely had company, although a few of the students dropped in a couple times. Mostly this Crystal woman, or a handful of the others. He always hid deeper into the shadows when she had this sort of company. Luckily, they rarely came in the early dawn, which was his favorite time to spend with her, aside of dusk. He had discovered that she wasn't very aware of her surroundings when she was working on her pictures. Each time she brought her book, with its pages filled with paintings and charcoal sketches, he found that he could come closer into the lighted room. She never noticed once.

But lately, she had been working on a different project, taking time out in between sketching, using the time where she would munch on a bit of lunch, to draw out a knife and some other object he could not yet recognize. Over a few days, he realized that she was slowly carving a box from a block of wood. She was more aware of things when she carved, weary of distractions that could cause her to jump and cut herself. The days when she carried the larger book of sketches he rejoiced, the days when it was absent were distant and slightly sad.

It was one of those days. He resigned himself to sit up on the catwalk, dangling his legs over the edge like a child resting on a bridge, to watch her work from afar. The only good thing about the carving days, he thought, was that she sang more. And that, in itself, was a treasure as beautiful as her works of art.

"Looking for you always/ Never finding you/ Poisoning myself..." She sang softly as her hands continued to brush away all of the wood shavings. The words were steady and warm, as if they were proclaiming an old truth and were no longer remorseful. The tune wasn't the smooth and flowing type, but was sharp and new, still somehow the words were comforting. This was a soul who understood his pain...

The doors opened, spilling light into the shaded room. It was that boy again. That troublesome lad who hung over her like a clinging web. That boy, that one with the pale-blond hair and the crystal-glass blue eyes. The thing of night-thing lore. But she merely looked up as the lad approached her.

"Wha'cha makin' now?" The boy asked, careless with the words. It made him wrinkle up his face in disgust. Such a waste of breath, of body.

"What I've been working on of late, Marius." She replied, a slight bite in her undertone, an icy hint that glanced off the boy easily. This Marius was either thick in mind or was use to such treatment. "And the same thing I will be working on until it is finally finished."

"Your music box." Marius sighed.

"My music box." She confirmed. She set the roughly carved box to the side and stood up with ease, a dancer's control and grace. Marius ran his hand over the flattened, ghost blond hair and sighed again.

"You work too hard on such small things. You carved the insides, the cogs and wheely-things, and put together the stupid music player. When are you going to put it off and come out of this dusty roach motel to party?" She just looked at the man disgustedly and shook her head, strands falling into her face as she bent to retrieve her box. "And that's another thing. You're always so damn grouchy when you're working on these things!"

"That's because I want to get it done, but some certain people wont let me. It takes time to make something..." She broke off, peering at the rough box. "Something beautiful. It takes work and time, both of which you people wont let me have." She jabbed at the sweater-clad torso jokingly on her way past Marius towards the back of the theater's main room. As they moved, so did he; standing up and dashing from the catwalk to one of the box seats in order to see the roaming figures better.

"Well, if you didn't lock yourself away in this dank sinkhole--" Marius sighed, following her, stopping short when she whirled around from his last bit. "Angel, you are alive. You are still young. So, why keep yourself hidden away in this old place? These dusty relics will be here in a few hours. They wont go anywhere if you go out to party. I promise." Marius' words teased. She sighed, looking around at the room. For a second, she thought she saw something move in the alcove's shadows, but when her eyes focused, there was nothing. "Are you coming or not?" Marius brought her back to the present, causing her to shake her head.

"No...not tonight. I wanted to get a few sketches of the lighting at sunset..." Her reply made Marius sigh in exasperation, but the conversation was dropped. The long shadow of Marius' exiting figure was the only thing left in the silence, and then it too was gone. He peered around a musty curtain that once was a beautiful shade of maroon, watching the whole account. She had almost seen him, but he escaped being caught once again by swiftly moving to the next box seat. He was becoming sloppy with his actions, almost as if his body was betraying his mind and setting himself up to be caught. Or, perhaps, it was his heart and soul that was betraying his mind these days. He was not sure; he only knew that he must not be caught. Not yet.

"Mm. MmmmHmmmmm...elle...duh-dum-duh-dee-duh-duh-del..." She hummed and muttered to herself below, resettling herself into one of the old chairs to work, the pleasant tune broken every once in awhile by a real word or two. He recognized the sparse words as French, but could not place the tune. Perhaps it was not an Opera and, therefore, he would not recognize it. She stood up to move down a few isles as the sun adjusted itself in the sky, sat down once more and went back to work.

As the sun sank slowly past the windowsills, he watched her from above. She had switched back to working in her book, and was curled sideways in one of the seats. He watched as she picked and choose contemptuously through a tin of pencils; watched as she bent her head low to the paper and then whip it up to stare for minutes at a time at the same point on the wall; watched as she reached over beside her to fumble with the workings of a lamp that gave off a harsh light; watched as her head slowly drooped and watched as she ceased to move, save for the shallow rhythm of her back. Was she asleep? He descended the marble steps of the reception parlor and made his way back into the Opera's stage room. Swiftly, he alighted across the main footpath towards the front row. Pausing before coming into the girl's line of sight, he slowly placed a hand on the back of her head, then crouched beside her inert form. Forehead to knees, eyes closed in fatigue, graphite smearing as she shifted her head slightly at his touch. Yes, he smiled as he stood for a few minutes, hovering over her bent frame, she was asleep. Gently and silently, lest he woke her up, he gathered her into his arms.

Her head rolled slightly as he shifted her against his chest, then nudged itself into the hollow of his neck. His heart raced for a second; she was so fragile and defenseless when she slept like this, it almost erased the earlier image of her strong stature which likened her to Aries, able to take on the world single handedly. This was a naked creature, its soul bared to the teeth of the wolf, unable to protect itself. Who would guard it from the terrors of the cradle of humanity? Who would ward off the inhumane evils and curses that mankind was so well known for? He would gratefully, if allowed, wrap her in the silks of the night to protect her from all that he was too familiar with. He could feel her heart race along with his own as they gracefully pushed on through the labyrinth of the Opera House's entrails. He heard her breath hitch slightly as they began to descend into the bowels of the Opera House, the very heart of its back workings.

"Slowly, gently/ night unfurls its splendor.../ Grasp it, sense it/ tremulous and tender.../ Turn your face away/ from the garish light of day/ turn your thoughts away/ from cold, unfeeling light/ and listen to/ the music of the night . . ." He sang softly, more of a lullaby than a true melody, gently carrying her in his arms. Her breathing returned to its previous pace, the periodic vacillations ceased. Lulling her into a sense of safety with his voice, he continued to descend throughout the maze of hallways. "Close your eyes/ and surrender to your/ darkest dreams/ Purge your thoughts/ of the life/ you knew before/ Close your eyes/ let your spirit/ start to soar/ And you'll live/ as you've never/ lived before..." Finally finding the proper room he had been searching for on instinct, for he knew this Opera House's workings by heart and mind, he nudged the old wooden door open with his shoulder, careful not to jar her. Within the room was a wooden bureau with a tarnished mirror, a full-length mirror that was also slightly faded, and a quilt-covered mattress resting on an oak bed frame. It was perfect.

"Floating, falling/ sweet intoxication/ Touch me, trust me/ savor each sensation/ Let the dream begin/ let your darker side give in/ to the power of the music/ that I write/ the power of the music of the night..." He whispered into her ear, brushing his cheek against hers as he laid her down onto the mattress. His heart skipped another beat as her fingertips lingered against the lapels of his coat before falling onto the mattress. This angel seemed open to his music, perhaps...No. He shouldn't try to fool himself. His heart had tricked his mind once before, there was no reason that this stranger would possibly want anything to have to do with him. He exited the room, pausing at the doorway to glance back at the sleeping woman. And yet...maybe, just maybe, she would one day sing for him, giving his music its wings once more. Just maybe. The silent words hung in the night air as his shadow disappeared back into the dark and mysterious workings known as the Opera House.


	4. Chapter 4

----Ch 4-----

She woke to strong sunlight streaming across her eyelids, burning painful spikes behind her retinas, and a gentle breeze floating across the room to caress her face tenderly with the free-floating strands of hair that always seem to get in her face. Birds chirped, a soft breeze almost lulled her back to sleep, and all was great with the world; especially this silky blanket she was wrapped up in.

"Wait a bleedin' mo---" she muttered to herself, sitting up, and struggling to unwrap herself from the winding sheets. She glanced around wildly, her arms flailing about as she reorinitated herself with the surroundings. A window, its double-sided panes open to allow the French air in; a dusty full-length mirror, slightly tarnished, but still usable; a wooden bureau, with its own mirror that was cracked in one corner; and this bed. She looked down at the winded sheet, turning the material over and over in her hands. One side was black, the other red. Standing up, she realized that it was no sheet, but a cloak. A cloak. Who would wear a cloak like this in this day and age!

Slowly she began to remember a voice, a voice as deep and mysterious as night itself and strong warm arms, when she heard thunderous footfalls.

"Angel? Angel!" A male voice called, and as her head snapped towards the doorway (which included a doorframe, but not a door), Marius appeared. She was still lost in thought as Marius rushed up to her, grabbing her in a bone-crushing hug. "Angel, what happened? When you didn't show up back at the hotel, I got worried."

"Everyone was worried, Marius." Crystal followed up, entering in right after the over-zealous man. The words Crystal spoke had a slight under bite, as if they conveyed a secret and unhappy meaning. She just glanced at Crystal over Marius' shoulder, the world hazy and uncertain. Slowly, she pressed her cheek to Marius' and cupped her hand against his neck, still trapped in thought.

"Its ok, Ange' baby. Its ok." Marius whispered, but she wondered if it really was. Pulling away from Marius, she sat back down slowly and began to fondle the folds of the cloak again. If it wasn't Marius who brought her here last night, then who? Who else knew about her being in the Opera House late last night? Who else knew how to get in? "Ange?"

"Was everyone back at the hotel?" She asked, her voice in a hushed tone, as if afraid to speak out loud.

"Except when we all went looking for you." Crystal confirmed. "That was about...well, two in the morning? We tried the Opera House first, but it was locked. We assumed that you had left for something to eat, and forgot to come back when you said you would. Why?" Crystal asked, peering oddly at the quivering girl. There was something about her that Crystal automatically knew was wrong, something disturbing her, but knew not to press it with Marius here.

"Oh...no reason..." She replied, gently folding the cloak into one square. Looking up, she smiled at her two worried friends and thought up a lie quickly. "I was working late last night, and wasn't up for the trek back to the hotel, so I crashed here."

"Up for the walk to the hotel? Ange, the hotel is just around the corner. Do you know how hard it was to find this room back here! Its up so many flights of stairs, in this maze of hallways, and some of the floor is rotted out! How you managed to get up here without killing yourself when you were half asleep is beyond me!" Elizabet crowed, walking in behind Crystal.

"Well, it didn't seem that far last night! In fact, it was easy...like floating." She gave an uneasy laugh, realized that the last comment disturbed her friends more than reassured them, and smiled. "Don't worry, I'll be more careful from now on."

"How about heading back to the hotel and crashing on the beds for a while?" Marius suggested, smiling at her, but was only addressing empty air. "After all, this nasty old thing couldn't have been very comfortable."

"Actually, it was kinda nice." She found herself saying, and realized that it was the truth. The mattress, although old, was old in a soft and nice way. Looking around once more, she stood up and decided out loud, " I think that I'm going to move my things in here, actually. Its quiet here and I'll be closer to my work. That is, if its ok with everyone else." It was obvious by the looks on her friends' faces that this wasn't ok by them, but they let the decision go without comment. As she followed them out of the room, she could have sworn that she saw a flash of white in the dusty gloom of the catwalks right outside her doorway.

In truth, he was there. Moving quickly by a system of pulley ropes, he kept up with the four adults, while remaining unseen. That boy, she thought that his serenade had been sung by that boy, that his caring actions had been delivered by that boy! No matter. It was obvious that she had realized her mistake when the two had embraced. Perhaps she was open to his suggestions...She certainly wasn't open to that cur's hints! He leapt onto one of the suspended planks, balancing himself precariously on the edge to lean down and listen in on the conversation.

"Ange...what really happened last night?" The red-headed one asked, keeping her voice low, keeping the words private.

"I told you. Let it go." She responded, head down and eyes cast onto the floorboards. Was this a trait from shyness or perhaps an avoidance of eye contact so the secret was prevented from being revealed? He was not sure just yet. Musing to himself as he stalked the boards above the two ladies, he kept only some of his thoughts on the conversation below.

"Ya, sure. That's really what happened..." The red-headed one sneered, placing a hand on the railing to keep from tripping on the narrow stairwell.

"It is. Crystal, you need to drop it. Nothing happened last night, so you can just stuff it already!"

"Nothing happened?" The woman, Crystal, repeated, her voice full of suspicion. "Nothing happened between you and who?"

"That 'you and whom' and it was nobody." She hissed as she stubbed her foot on a warped step, then stammered "Nobody because there was nobody there! I mean, it was no one---no, no one was there, all right! No one! I was alone and...and I---stop laughing!" She paused as Crystal, who had previously been stifling the giggles, burst into full blown laughter and sat down on the step. Rolling her eyes at her friend's antics, she frowned as she caught another flash of white above them. This time she was sure of it. There was something up there, something white, and there was something familiar about that white flash that nagged at the back of her mind.

"Hey, look at this!" Crystal whispered, crouching back down and peering at a banister. She turned to look at what her friend was pointing at, and, pausing only a second to double check that the white flash had disappeared, crouched down beside Crystal. There, engraved in the rotting wood, were two startlingly familiar names.

Christine Daai.  
Meg Giry.

"Aren't those both your name, Ange?" Crystal whispered, gazing up at the shell-shocked nineteen-year old. "Christine DeRoset-Giry?"

"Ya...this must have been carved by my grandmother and my great-aunt!" She whispered back, lightly running her fingertips over the carved names.

"So, where did the 'Angel' come in?" Crystal asked, sitting back down on the step. Smiling slightly, she sat beside Crystal, her eyes still fixed on the hypnotic names.

"My middle name. Grandmother Meg wanted me to be named after her sister-slash-best friend, and mom kept the tradition of hyphenating the last name. So my dad got to pick my middle name, one he hoped I would live up to."

"And you have, of course. Christy, the perfect lil' angel!" Crystal teased gently, nudging the silently grinning friend. "Who happens to be turning twenty in a few days! So, what do you want to do? A big night out on the French town? A bash where we go crash someone else's party? A rave?"

"You know I don't dance!" She laughed. Jumping up, Crystal clapped hands loudly.

"That's it then! A dance! A themed dance to boot...lets see..." Crystal's eyes set to casting about, looking for something to inspire, while the mild complaints of being unable to dance continued on in the background. Suddenly, the roving eyes lit on a faded poster tacked up on the opposing wall. "That's it! A masquerade!"

"A masquerade?" She repeated, doubtfully.

"A masquerade..." He whispered to himself, and then smiled down on the two unsuspecting women before disappearing to prepare.

"Yes! A big masquerade, where we'll invite thousands of people we don't know to fill up these halls and wear foofy outfits! And dance!" Grabbing onto her arms, Crystal hauled the stuttering friend down the rest of the flights. "We'll need to prepare right away...and we have got to find you a dress!"

"But I don't wear dresses!" She cried in distress. Overhearing the last comment before the two disappeared, he smiled to himself once more. Didn't wear dresses? To her masquerade she shall. And such a fine dress it shall be.


	5. Chapter 5

----Ch 5-----

"Masquerade/ paper faces on parade/ Masquerade/ hide your soul/ so the world can never harm you..." She sang along softly, a sad but warm smile on her lips, her eyes bright but worn as she watched the gears working in the box. She had finally completed piecing the box together, and had fitted in the music bit. "Masquerade/ seething shadows, burning lies/ Masquerade/ try to hide/ but the world will always find you..."

"Those aren't the lyrics." Marius commented, coming up behind her but still keeping his distance. She glanced over her shoulder slightly, and sighed deeply, rolling her shoulders to be rid of the tenseness.

"To each their own." Was all she had to say, setting the tinkering box on the stage and dusting the wood dust off of her jeans. She leaned up against the edge of the stage, turning the knife over and over in her hands, as she waited for Marius to get on with whatever he had to say.

"Hey, Ange, you know its only three days until your party..." Marius remaindered her, the words changing from casual to silky.

"Already!" She screeched, dropping the knife and hopping back as it hit the floor.

"Geeze, are you ok? You could of hurt yourself!" He stepped over the fallen knife and grabbed her shoulders in a reassuring way.

"Ya, ya, fine. I just-—I totally forgot that it was at the end of the week. Wow, the days are going fast." She babbled on, stooping to pick up the knife, jerking her shoulders out of his hands accidentally.

"Well, I was wondering if you'd like to go with me." He suggested as she straightened back up, a confused look on her face.

"We all are going, remember? Everyone will be there. Everyone better be there, because I'm not playing host all by myself!" Her voice traveled slightly higher and the words came out rushed. She hadn't forgotten, she had been trying to forget. She obviously was stressed.

"No, I meant as my date. Almost everyone has somebody to go with...and I was wondering if you'd go with me." She just stared at him and, unknown by both of them, a second pair of eyes stared at him with the same astonished expression. "I mean, we like each other a lot, and we've been out together before...so...why not?" Marius ended with a slight laugh, as if covering up some own nervousness. She ducked her head slightly, unsure of what to say, passing the knife point-to-hilt in between her fingers. An uncomfortable silence filled the vast stage room. "It'll be no big deal..." Marius tried again, the words subtly pushing at her to say yes. From the shadowy alcove behind the vent's grill, just behind Marius, a certain figure longed to reach out and wrap his gloved hands around the male brat's neck and choke the very life from the boy. But that could be a disastrous idea...

"I...I guess we could go to-together..." She murmured low, causing Marius to grin widely and lean forward.

"I guess I better make sure my tux is pressed then, eh?" Marius laughed and then, leaning even closer, planted a kiss on her cheek before leaving. She never looked up as the large doors closed behind the retreating figure, never even saw the discouraged look on the shadowy figure's face as he retreated back towards his underground lair, never even noticed that she had sliced open the skin on her finger until she reached for the box.

"Hey, Angel...you alright?" Crystal's voice cut through her thoughts. Staring vaguely at the red head, she blinked and rubbed at her bloody finger with the pad of her thumb. "Ok, you need to get out of here. Did you know that it has been nine or ten days since you've stepped out of those doors?"

"Which is it?"

"Which is what?"

"Which is it—-nine or ten?" She repeated, causing Crystal to laugh.

"Come on girl, we are getting you out into the sunshine and away from this depressing Opera House."

"It's not depressing!" She cried, indignantly, causing her friend to raise an eyebrow.

"Then why are you so out of it?"

"Because...Marius asked me out to the dance." She replied, hesitantly. The shadowy figure, which had paused in his retreat, noticed that she had cut herself, perked up slightly. If the boy's proposal was the cause in the sudden mood swing, perhaps he still had a chance. She didn't want to be with this Marius character!

"Don't feel bad about turning him dow—-wait, what did you say back?" Crystal asked, suddenly curious.

"I said yes." She admitted, sounding like a doomed convict.

"So why did you agree if you didn't want to!" Crystal groaned.

"Because...I don't know! I think I like him, but I'm not sure...I guess I do, kind of, but then again, I don't and...and..." Crystal patted her flustered friend's shoulder.

"Come on. I found this great little café yesterday that you'll love. We'll go have lunch and window shop for dresses." With that, the two women were gone, leaving a confused and empty-feeling unseen figure behind. Liked him? Liked him but didn't? He didn't know what to think anymore and wished she would make up her mind. That would make his mind that much easier to decide on his fate. Shaking his head slightly, he resigned to return to his own art project, her dress. For he knew there would be none out there in the world that would suit her better than the one he would present her with in three days.

That Evening

"So, he just walked up to me and started talking. Of course, I had no clue what he was saying, so I just told him 'No speak-y French' and he pointed to the mask, then kissed me!" Crystal concluded her story, sending both women into peels of laughter. Stalking across the back of the box seat's aisle, annoyed that they were being loud enough to wake the dead, the shadowy figure hid himself behind one of the velvet curtains to watch their conversation unfold.

"Hee...hee...heh...say, Angel, do you think that guy's story was true?"

"Which one, the guy who said that frog's legs was good for our daily diet?" She snorted, but Crystal's grin had faded.

"No, no that guy was crazy. I meant the waiter, who told us the myth of the Phantom Ghost." Crystal tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. This got the hidden figure's attention. So, the modern day villagers were talking of him once more, hm?

"Perhaps...I haven't seen anyone here after dark with me...but maybe that means he's a real ghost and can't be seen." She wiggled her fingers towards Crystal, pitching her voice low and spooky.

"Ha, ha, and once more for appeal, ha." Crystal replied dryly. "I'm serious—-"

"And I'm Angel. Nice to meet you!" She joked, reaching out to shake her friend's hand.

"Angel! Come on, are you sure there's no one else here? Or maybe," Crystal squinted slyly. "He's the 'Nobody' you 'didn't' meet..."

"Knock it off!" She replied crossly, all the fun dropped from her voice.

"What was that book, 'The Odyssey'? Didn't the main character trick the Cyclops by telling the giant dude his name was 'Nobody', so when the other Cyclops' came out to help their fallen brother, they were told that 'Nobody' was the one who poked the dude's eye out?"

"How is it that you remember all that, but not what was the answers to the test!" She asked amused. Crystal just shrugged. "Well, if there is an opera ghost, I doubt he'll come down to meet us."

"Ooh! Try! Ask if he'd come to your ball!" Crystal clapped her hands, then started to shout "Mr. Ghost! Mr. Ghost dude!" He couldn't help but smile at the petite woman's efforts. He hated to disappoint her friend, but he was staying put, hidden behind the box seat's drapery. "Come on, Angel."

"Excuse me, M. Opera Ghost...um...are you here? Um..." She called upward, a slight nervousness in her voice. Perhaps it was just his heart wishing, but it seemed to him that she did believe he was here. The very placement of her eyes, the way she was scanning the box seats, told him the truth. She did believe in him!

"Yo, ghost dude! Will you come to Angel's birthday dance? Its gonna be a masquerade and there will be a load of old-styled waltzing and whatever!" Crystal turned to her, grinning. "Wait a tick...didn't that waiter guy say that the ghost was bad luck? That it brought death or whatever?"

"Well, yes he did, but that was who they blamed the great fire on." She shrugged. Up in the shadows, he noticed her choice of wording. 'Who' they blamed the fire on, not 'what' they blamed...She knew he was real. She must!

"Will you come to my ball and dance with me, Monsieur le Mort?" She asked loudly, answered only by his silence and the silence of the halls.

"Well, then, don't come if you're in a fiery mood!" Crystal gave one last happy cry towards the stage, then turned back. "I'm going back to the hotel. Adiu, adiu, Monsieur le Mort! Perchance, you will grace us at her ball?" Crystal cried to the ceiling happily as she marched backwards. "Sleep tight and don't let the ghosties bite!" Turning with a flourish, the red head exited. He shook his head in the shadows, amused easily at the woman's constant antics.

"Walk safely Crystal." She replied dryly. Yawning, she decided to turn in for bed as well. Walking slowly up the stairs, she mulled over what the waiter had said. The Opera Ghost. A Phantom. Phantom of the Opera. She chuckled to herself over such a notion, suddenly cutting off the laughter when she spied the crumpled cape that was still draped across her bedspread. Perhaps there really was an Opera Ghost? Surely she didn't believe in such nonsense! A ghost belonged in the fairy tales, along with goblins and vampires and princesses. But, if none of her friends had brought her up to this room weeks ago, then who else could have, but a ghost? Shaking her head, she decided to take a nice hot bath and forget all about the story. Folding the cape up neatly, she glanced around the room once, and set it on the bureau, whispering "Thank you" before slipping into the semi-hidden side doorway, which led to a bathroom.

She had discovered it days ago; accidentally leaning against what she thought was a solid wall and landed in the ancient claw-footed bathtub. Now it was the perfect retreat for an evening such as this. The copper pipes still worked perfectly, drawing the hot water up from the boiler room to fill the scrubbed-white tub. She had even found some of those small scented oil balls, similar to marbles, which filled the tiny room with the smell of lilac or roses. Of course, she had to tack a sheet over the doorway, because even though it was somewhat hidden from the room's eyes, anyone could still walk in. She slipped into the tub, allowing the smell of lavender to take away all thoughts of ghosts and phantoms and parties. But twenty minutes later, all of that came crashing back down upon her.

For where she left the folded cloak, rested a single red rose, tied with a black ribbon.


	6. Chapter 6

----Ch 6-----

Three days had gone by and it was the night of the grand ball. Streams of decorations flooded the halls; tentacles of streamers snaked around corners, leading to the main hall, where balloons by the hundreds were tethered to various items and those that got free were bobbing against the domed ceiling. Crowds of people in every sort of masked costume stalked the streets outside of the Opera House, chatting up a storm, and wandering in. The ten students played host in the informal fashion, making sure nothing was broken or trashed, while a loud combination of 18th century orchestra and modern day techno blasted from the speakers. The resulting noise was surprisingly good.

"Have you seen Ange?" Crystal shouted into Marius' ear. The Zorro look-alike, minus the cape of course, shrugged. Frowning, Crystal walked around the buffet table and through the crowds, off towards the off-limits part of the room. This was not surprisingly unexpected. Whenever there was a chance to show off her voice or was forced to dance, she always managed to vanish. That was her way of avoiding what usually could be an embarrassing moment. "If only she tried," Crystal thought out loud. "She isn't terrible at dancing...or maybe she is. I dunno, she won't show us!!" Grumbling, Crystal suddenly was sidetracked by a cute boy with paper mache horns and a gold mask in a tux. She could wait. This was important...

In all reality, if she had known what was going on downstairs, she would of been glad that Crystal was sidetracked. At that moment, however, she was blissfully alone taking a bath.

"Masquerade party...stupid party..." She mumbled to herself. Sloshing the sea of foam slightly as she brought her knees up above water, she leaned her head back, the cold porcine pressing against her neck. Sounds of the party could be heard, even as far back in the building's workings as she was. This was way, way out of her league. These were the sort of parties everyone else had, if they had the money of course, but not her. She was shy, she was quiet, she was—-

The curtain/bed sheet that she had tacked up to cover the doorway shifted. Sitting up as quietly as she could, she stared wide-eyed at the sheet. There! It stirred again, as if a force or breeze was behind it. She was not alone...

Suddenly, a shape burst into her line of sight, just over the edge of the tub. She started, rushing back and sloshing more water over the tub's sides, then laughed. There was her scary ghost...a cat!! The black and orange tabby sat passively balanced on the tub's slick edge, licking its delicate black paw and blinking at her derisively.

"Oh, puss, you scared me!!" She laughed again, reaching out with a finger, which the cat calmly sniffed. "Oh, puss, puss...come to keep me company? You will surely get wet if you keep it up!" She told the cat as it crouched over to nudge the water with its paw. "Such delicately strong paws...velvet black, dark as night. Do you know Lois Weakley McKay's poem, 'Night'?" Closing her eyes briefly, she began to recite the poem by heart. "'My kitten walks on velvet feet and makes no sound at all; and in the doorway nightly sits to watch the darkness fall...'" She paused and frowned. "Sorry puss, but I can't remember the rest of the poem. It has something about being akin to Lady Night. Are you a familiar with Mme. Couche and M. le Mort?" She smiled as the cat meowed and rubbed at her raised hand with its head. "You know, I can't keep calling you puss...may I call you Tom?" The cat blinked up at her and purred loudly. Laughing to herself, she rattled off titles. "Peeping Tom, Tom foolery, Tom-Tom the piper's son...I bet you were beside the Piped Piper when he drove out all the rats, weren't you, my dear Thom?" The cat leapt off the tub's edge and onto the floor, mewing at hung sheet. "Silly, silly puss...have you come to remind me of my ball? Well, you can forget it. As surely as I am the guest of honor, I am not attending!" She watched as the cat batted the foam puffs across the floor, then stood and reached for the towel. "Well, fine! You have convinced me. But what am I to wear? I have no--" She froze, her hand still holding the curtain back, at the sight of a magnificent green and gold dress.

At that very moment, Crystal burst through the open doorframe, hollering about what was going to happen to a certain no-show.

"Angel, what the hell are you doing?! You're sopping wet, you still refuse to wear a dress, and you haven't ordered in a tux...whoa, nice dress!" She smiled to herself on the sudden jumping of Crystal's thoughts, and nodded mutely. "When did you buy that?"

"I didn't." She admitted, stepping closer to the dressmaker's dummy that wore the beautiful gown. "It just appeared."

"Just appeared?" Crystal repeated, frowning. "As in...poof?"

"Poof." She agreed. "It wasn't here when I stepped into the bath, and now it's here!!"

"Who cares where it came from, just get it on! People are starting to fill up the ball room, and you aren't down there are your party!!"

"Do you think that Marius put it here for me?" She asked, trying not to feel the goose bumps that ran up and down her arms.

"That jerk? HA!!! As if!" Suddenly remembering that the two were going as a couple, Crystal softened the tone. "Angel, he might be your date, and you might like him, but he is a jerk sometimes...and he could never think up a plot that elaborate!!" She nodded and had to admit, Crystal was right.

"Crystal! Some dude dressed in a joker's black-and-white split is looking for you. His English is a little poor, but his hair is short and purple, so I figured he knew who he was asking for." Marius called, striding into the room. She pulled the towel closer as he entered, and shot Crystal a 'don't-you-dare-leave-me' look, which Crystal missed, due to exiting the room at the time the look was sent. "Hey, you... um...you should probably be getting dressed..." Marius suggested, trying not to be obvious in his attempts to sneak peeks at her scarcely clad form. "When did you get a dress?" Marius exclaimed as he noticed the wooden dummy's outfit. She opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off as he continued onward. "I thought you said you would never wear dresses, not for anybody!!" He accused.

"Well, I am." She found herself snapping back boldly. Marius just looked at her, shocked, perhaps at her tone or her words, or even both. "Someone put in a lot of work for this dress...so I thought I would wear it for them. Since they obviously wanted me to wear it." She added the last part as a form of explanation.

"Who made it then?" Marius asked; the heat in the words were not lost on her and she stuttered slightly.

"I...I'm not sure..." She admitted, then frowned. "But it's beautiful. Someone worked hard for me. Someone though it was perfect for me. Someone cared enough to take the time to create or find this beautiful gown and give it to me. So I think that whoever it is deserves to see me in it!" Marius seemed at a loss of words, shocked into a stone statue at her boldness and fiery tongue, then turned and left.

"The party is going on downstairs, you know. So hurry it up." Marius tossed over his shoulder before disappearing around the corner. Pressing her lips together, she closed her eyes and ran her fingers over the dresses material, wondering if this particular night was really worth all this hassle. Opening her eyes to the gown's beauty, she felt a stir in her chest, and knew that she was right. Whoever gave it to her wanted to see her in it. They deserved that much, at least.

"What do you think Tom?" She asked, turning to the cat on the bed. The black and orange feline blinked and purred, squawking as she tossed the towel over him. "No peeking while I'm changing." She teased, freeing the animal from the folds of the terrycloth a few minutes later. "Well?" She asked again, stepping back to admire her reflection in the full-length mirror. The green of the dress made the blues in her eyes stand out, while the gold stitches and trimmings off set her hair. Smiling to herself, she took the black ribbon off bureau, from beside where she kept the rose in a vase, and tied her hair back. There. It was off the neck, and out of her face for good.

"You're beautiful." Marius commented, startling her slightly. He strode from the doorway to wrap his arms around her waist and nuzzle her exposed neck with he chin. "I'm sorry for earlier. I guess I'm just jealous of this mystery sewwer."

"Its semester. Or seamstress." She corrected Marius softly. The grip on her waist tightened slightly, then he smiled and stood back to admire her.

"Right. Seamstress." Plucking the rose from the vase, Marius snapped the stem off and tucked it into her dress. "Stunning. Let's go!" She frowned sadly at the destroyed rose, but allowed herself to be led from the room by the hand.

"Everyone, the birthday girl has arrived!!" Marius announced loudly, greeted by cheers and the clapping of a hundred or so strange hands. She felt her eyes widen as the sight of a sea of strangers met her gaze...how on earth did they invite this many people?!

"You look fabulous!" Elizabet called over the music of the noise as she made her way to one of the walls. Crystal nodded, grinning and flashing a thumbs-up sign, before being invited to dance with some masked man. She fiddled with the rose, avoiding the moment when she knew she would have to say yes to someone's proposal to dance with them.

Hours when by. Food was served the whole while, cake was passed around at eleven and a collection of cards and cash was taken away to where her friends had stashed her other presents. She was amazed at how many strangers had actually brought her a card, even more so when she heard that most of the cards contained money!!! She had smiled when Marius told her, but forced them to take the money. She didn't need it and they had spent their own money on this party for her. Dancing continued all around her, masks of all sorts wising past, as she tucked herself into an unoccupied corner to have some peace. The party was amazing, but she really could have done with something less...flashy? Loud? Defiantly less crowded! Her smile at that last thought faded as she began to fiddle with the broken rose again. The pedals were beginning to wilt; one of them already had brown edges.

"Why so sad, mmlle. Belle?" An alluring voice asked from behind her. Whirling around, a man only slightly taller than herself, dressed in a Spanish red outfit with gold trimmings, stood with a black doublet mask on. His accent was faint, as if he was use to speaking English.

"I'm sorry, I didn't see you there..." She apologized, but he just smiled kindly.

"It's quite alright...but your rose...it will fade faster if you mess with it that way." He told her in a fashion that gave her the impression he was both scolding her and joking with her.

"It won't stay put, Monsieur. The stem..." She held the rose up to him on her palm, showing him the destroyed stem. He frowned slightly, his eyes showing through the same subtle sadness that she had for the poor flower, then smiled.

"Here, Madame!" He gently picked the rose up from her palm flat, and swiftly pulled a pin out of nowhere, pinning it to her dress front. She gazed down at the rose, he had been careful not to tear her dress or pierce the bud's stem. "The flower may be salvageable. Why don't you try placing it in some cold water tonight? It may save it." The stranger suggested. She smiled up at him, and as the music struck up as a techno-waltz-remix, reached out to take his hand.

"Ange!! There you are! Come on, let's dance..." Marius appeared out of nowhere, grabbing her by the wrist and dragging her unexpectedly out into the dancing mob.

"Marius!! I was talking with someone!" She shouted crossly over the music. Marius shrugged, taking her hands in a waltzing stance, and replied just a loud.

"Didn't see that. You can apologize later. Let's dance!" As he tried to take the lead, she soon realized that he had no clue to what he was doing.

"You can't waltz, can you?" She commented sarcastically into his ear.

"Ya, well, you can't dance period, so what does that matter?" He shot back, hurtful with his words and angry with hers. She opened her mouth to retort back, when suddenly she felt herself being wrenched gently away from Marius and into the arms of a more capable dancer. Looking up, she found herself staring back at her conversationalist.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but it seemed to me that you were in need of a new partner." He spoke to her over the music.

"Trust me, there is no need to apologize!!! Thank you!!" She called back, laughing. They waltz expertly across the marbled floor, and by their third dance, she found herself increasingly glad for this new partner. Although he was silent most of the time, which was most likely due to the loud music, she noticed how expressive his eyes were. They sent silent messages which neither of them fully understood and laughed. "Hey, this is Masquerade!!" She cried happily as a new song came on. He frowned slightly, obviously unable to recognize it. "Well, a remixed version of it anyways." They struck up the waltz again; him guiding her around the other couples, her following gladly. At the end of the song, they both bowed low to each other, and then he took her by the hand.

"Where are we going?" She laughed as he pulled her along towards the darker back workings of the stage, then pressed her lips together to stifle the laughter as he pressed a finger to his smile, shushing her teasingly, and then let go of her hand. They raced through the maze of corridors, she loosing sight of him for a second, laughing as he poked his head around a corner, taunting her to follow. "Where are you?" She called between laughs, turning round and round.

"Over here!" He laughed back, leaning around the banister of a flight of stairs before racing up them. "Catch me if you can!"

"Hey, wait!" She giggled, following as fast as the dress would allow. As she reached the top of the wooden stairs, she noticed that he paused at the other end, as if waiting for her to catch up, before leaping halfway down the other side. Laughing, she stumbled down the stairs, always a few steps behind him, and paused, searching. "Marco!"

"I don't know who this 'Marco' character is..." His voice spun her around just in time to see a flash of red against the darkness. "But if you must know, it isn't my name." She spun around again, his voice coming from a different direction.

"Well then, tell me what it is. I must know!" She laughed, put off slightly that he didn't get the joke, but eager to keep up this game of follow-the-leader with her strange and wonderful partner.

"Ah-ah-ah!" He laughed, and she spun around once more, to see him standing at the top of some old crates off to the side. "Not just yet!" He turned and jumped behind the crates. She ran around the large boxes, and then paused. There was nothing there, save for a length of rope and some strewn canvases.

"Where'd you go, white rabbit?" She murmured to herself, put off that he had left her. Suddenly his laughter filled up the backstage, seemingly above and all around her, making her spin around in search of him.

"White rabbit am I?" His voice asked, and she dashed off towards the stage curtains. "Such interesting analogies! Tom Foolery and the White Rabbit were having tea one morn'..." He recited in a sing-song voice. "And spoke amongst themselves, of the mysterious Angel of Music, and the Phantom that haunts the music shelves...Hmm..." She paused as his voice lulled for a few moments. "Could use some work, I suppose..."

"I suppose." She repeated, closing in on the curtain. The thick sheet moved, as if a figure on the other side as shifting, and she held her breath. Just a few more steps...

"Yes, I suppose." He agreed and with that, she yanked back the curtain. Standing there was...absolutely no one. Puzzled, she stepped out onto the empty stage and gazed hazily at the sea of masks.

"Not to-night, my Angel. Not to-night." His voice whispered over her shoulder. Whipping back around, she stared wide-eyed at the empty back workings.

"Angel!!! Where the hell were you?!" Crystal screeched, grabbing onto the startled friend's arm and pulling her back towards the stage's stairs. "We've been looking all over for you. Marius is going nuts, thinks you've run away with some dude or whatever. He's being a prick...Angel?" She turned her head to look at Crystal, but as she was opening her mouth to answer, screams filled the room.

Whirling back around, both women stared at the cause of the screams; a black-cloaked figure with a skull mask stood high above the stage.

"Good evening, MM. and Memes. Dancers. Surely you have not forgotten to invite the famous Opera Ghost?" The death-headed figure laughed horrifically, causing the partiers to scream even more. "Perhaps you've even forgotten whose house this really is? See that you do not forget!!!" The shadowy figure then did the most peculiar thing; it stared straight down at her, giving her a chilling thrill. Then, with a loud crack and a flash of smoke, the ghost disappeared.

"The ghost is real..." Crystal whispered, accidentally squeezing her arm too tight.


	7. Chapter 7

----Ch 7-----

Yes, the ghost was real.

Hadn't she known that? Who else could have given her the feelings of being subtly watched all those days? Who else could it have been to bring her to the hidden bedroom that one night? Who else would wear a black cloak? That cloak!! The skull-masked figure had been wearing the cloak that been taken away by its unseen giver...

It was only an hour after the ghost's startling appearance and surprising disappearance. Most of the random partiers had left after the sudden guest, others lingering till they were chased out by her ten friends. Her friends had also left reluctantly, heading back to the hotel after she reassured them that nothing else could happen and that she would clean up since they had done so much already. But she had left all the decorations up (or down, as in the case of most of the balloons) and, only after rechecking that the ghost wasn't lingering in the stage's shadows, went up to get ready for bed. She stood now, still dressed in the gorgeous green and gold gown, staring at her reflection. What all had exactly happened?

That man. Her eyes widened as she fingered the rose still pinned to her front, a slight blush skirting over her face. The Spanish red-dressed man with the black doublet mask, the one who helped to save her gifted rose. What was it that he titled her with? Mmlle. Belle? Madame beauty? The blush deepened as she slowly slid the pin from the dress' material. His voice had been the real beauty there, so deep and silky. And his moves!! He was a true timepiece with his waltz steps. But he couldn't really have been interested in her...not her, with her messy long hair and her ability to be prone to artistic messes. He wasn't interested in her...he couldn't have been...could he? But she thought back at his wonderful rescue from her previous date, at their game of tag in the shadowy maze, and had to wonder.

A black and orange streak of fur bounded into the room and leapt onto her dresser top.

"Oh!!" She gasped, startled by the cat's sudden appearance, and then hissed in pain as she pricked her finger on the pin. Gazing down readily at the crimson teardrop, she realized that the pin's head was none other than the mask of death that the ghost had worn; a skull, with empty eye sockets, leering up at her. "Oh..." She whispered again, drawn deep into thought.

"Merrou?" The cat asked, rubbing against the reflective, but tarnished, surface of her mirror. He repeated his greeting, drawing her out of the internal well, and turned his spotted face up towards her, purring in delight of the demanded attention.

"Is that all you can say, my dear Tom, when I have just had the most interesting and frightening birthday ever? When I have just had over a hundred or so guests leave after a night of partying? When I may have just been slightly wooed by an amazing suitor? When I have just witnessed the very ghost whom you share this Opera House with? When I have just met the Red Death---Le Mort Roux!!" She burst out demands, knowing full well that she was merely teasing someone who would not recognize the fact. "And all you can say is pet me, adore me?" The cat, in response, closed his upturned eyes and purred louder. "Oh, my sweet, sweet Tom!" She laughed, pulling the cat to her chest and cuddling him. "Oh, you care nothing for the fancy beau that I have just met! And yet, there is a puzzle that lies inside his mysterious aura..." She laid there with the feline for a few more minutes, then set the cat back down.

"I must get out of this dress before I ruin it..." She muttered to herself, smoothing her hands over the material. Glancing around the room quickly to make sure she was quite devoid of any human (or inhuman) company, she began to undress. "You wont mind me, will you Tom? I am rather sorry that you did not attend my ball...but..." She paused while struggling to pull the material over her head carefully. "I do understand. A single cat as yourself must be troubled by all the commotion. I myself am sometimes fond of the solitude. But...we can't all be lonely all the time..." She murmured the last part in a way that would indicate there was something weighing heavily on her mind. Sighing to herself, she gazed longingly at the gown that once again adorned the dressmaker's dummy. "I only wish I knew who gave this to me...and if they were there to see it." Flopping back onto the bed, she sighed again. "Would you like to know a secret, my dear Thom?" The orange and black cat purred loudly into her ear and crawled atop her taunt stomach. "Well, alright then. I do believe that my beau of a dance partner and this Phantom may be one and the same. The pin head is remarkably similar to the mask the ghost wore, and I could have sworn that the Phantom looked directly at me before disappearing..." Yawning, she stroked the cat gently behind the ears. "And I also believe that I have been talking to you in extremely proper and old fashioned English. Oh posh then!" She laughed weakly. "Tomorrow I really need to find the dressmaker and at least thank them...but I need to give it back ...there's no way I can afford it...and its way too good for me to keep..." Her words faded as she drifted off to sleep, but not before a shadowy figure in the corner heard her last words. "...beautiful, beautiful from a beautiful..." He couldn't help but wonder what the end of the sentence would have been if she was awake, and smiled kindly at the sleeping figure.

The next morning, she woke to find another blooming rose pinned to the front of the dress, along with a note, which read "Beauty for beauty. It's yours. Seeing you in it was thanks enough."


	8. Chapter 8

----Ch 8-----

"I don't care if there hasn't been anymore appearances by the ghost, I'm not leaving!!" Crystal shouted, kneeling backwards on one of the violet red seats that flooded the main stage room.

"I'm telling you, I'm fine. Never better and never more alone." She snapped back. Rolling her eyes in a huffy manner, she switched her graphite pencils and went back to her artwork. Crystal jumped up to walk over to the furiously sketching woman, peering over the twenty year old's shoulder.

"I know what you said. I know what you've been saying. I know that you disappeared for a while at the party without telling someone where you went. I know that we were, and still are, worried about you being here all by yourself. So, you need to know that I'm not leaving. Period." Crystal verbally stamped down the parental foot, knowing that it would annoy her to no end, but that it had to be done.

"I'm not a kid. It's been five days already, and nothing is up. So, stop treating me like one, because I am not a kid!"

"No, you're just annoyingly secretive." Their conversation lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, broken by a growling sound. "Have you eaten?" The uncomfortable silence began again. "Christine Angel DeRoset-Giry!!! Why, in the name of all things right and decent on this green rock, have you not eaten?!"

"...Well..." Was all that the accused woman could muster up. Crystal glared down on the seated artist, who's stomach grumbled again. "No money for one thing."

"No money?!" Crystal screeched. She winced at the noise and set her pencil down with a sigh. "What about all that cash you got for your birthday?"

"Gave it all to you guys." She explained, standing up to stretch.

"Well, why didn't you ask for some money if you were out? We would of given it to you! It is...was...yours!!"

"...didn't want to ask." She admitted bashfully. Crystal groaned. "I kinda have a thing---"

"That thing about asking for things...Ange...you have to remember to ask when you need help!!" Crystal rolled eyes, then took her by the hand. "Come on...lets go out for some lunch..."

"No, that's ok." She replied swiftly, pulling her wrist out of Crystal's grip. "I want to get this piece done today."

"Angel, you're going to starve yourself over a stupid picture?!" Crystal shouted. "Don't be stupid!!"

"I'm not!" She shouted back.

"Yes, you are! Fine! Be stupid!! I'll see you at dinner...that is, if you aren't too busy with your picture!!" Crystal shouted angrily one last time before turning and marching out. She watched her friend leave, then wince again as the door slammed.

"...Not being stupid..." She muttered sullenly to herself, sitting back down to pick up the pad of paper. Hours rolled by, and she sat as still as the statues she was drawing. Not once did she move to appease her stomach, nor did she stir when it was obvious that her limbs were falling asleep. No, the only time she moved was to reach behind her for a new pencil or the pencil sharpener itself. Which gave the sympathetic shadow an idea.

"Mmmnnn..." She grumbled, rubbing at a corner of the picture with the kneaded eraser. "Work, darn you, work!" She muttered to herself, reaching back for a different pencil. "Perhaps a different shade?..." Her fingers fumbled with the box of working items, finally closing on a solid object. "What the...?" She frowned, her brow wrinkling in confusion as she brought the object into her line of sight. An apple? Turning, she saw that someone had not only placed an apple where she would find it, but also set a basket filled with bread, cheese and other delights beside her workbox. Glancing around, she set the sketchbook aside and stretched, finding a more comfortable position on the floor, and bit into the juicy treat. She kept her eyes on the higher, shadowy levels of the room as she leaned back to lie down. Who could of dropped this off without her noticing? Crystal? No, Crystal would have said something. Elizabet? Once again, would have at least said hello. Marius? She laughed. He didn't have the brains (or caring feelings) to do something like this. John? JackMeganSteve? She went over all the friends, but no one could have entered without her noticing...or would she have? She frowned thoughtfully again, biting deep into the fruit. She was working hard...perhaps she wasn't paying attention and they dropped the food off without saying a word, being considerate of her hard work. She snorted, sitting up. Right, considerate of all the hard work. They party day and night, spending their money and then sending home for more. She rubbed the back of her neck, touching her shoulder blades lightly. Home.

"Hello?" She called out suddenly. Looking up towards the box seats, she could have sworn there was someone up there. She stood up, setting the apple back down in the basket, and jogged lightly to the stairs. A couple of the planks had warped, she noticed, as she proceeded up the winding staircase with caution. Reaching the top of the flight, she slowly made her way down the hall, peering into each box seat. No, no, nothing. Frowning again, she stepped all the way into one of the overhanging rooms. No one, but what a view!! Turning to leave, she suddenly noticed that someone had left a package on one of the front seats. Glancing around, she picked up the parcel and untied the bounding string. Papers, faded yellow and the red ink dried to brown, spilled out into her hands, scrawling script dancing across the parchment. She looked closer at the writing; it was filled not just with words, but with music staffs and notes as well!!

"What on earth...?" She mumbled to herself, reading the score, and to her own surprise, began to hum the tune. Her voice warbled slightly, searching for the right pitch, then started to get the hang of it. "...come to me, Angel of Music...hide no longer...Angel of Music? Why is that familiar?" She pondered out loud, then shook her head, replacing the music into its wrappings. A thought nagged at the back of her mind, a fable of familiarity, that annoyed her. Why did that term sound so...right? As she wandered back out into the hall, she suddenly glimpsed a flash of white out of the corner of her eyes, but when she turned, it was gone. A chill ran through her spine and she considered chasing after this phantom color. Taking a few steps forward, she changed her mind. Dinner with the others sounded great right now.

"So, I said to him...I said 'Listen, I gave you the dang money. Now give me my change, you metric systematic nazis!'" John finished the story to a chorus of laughter, grinning around the bottle at the others.

"Speaking of whacko," She piped up, grinning around at all her friends. "Which one of you set out the basket this afternoon?" The room fell silent. "Come on, which one of you put it where I would find it?"

"Angel...no one went to the Opera House after Crystal said you two had a fight..." Marius told her slowly, sitting back slightly. She felt the grin freeze on her face.

"Right, har-dee-har-har...come on, jokes over. Funny. Ha-ha. Out with it already!" She answered, her voice wavering slightly in fear.

"Ange..." Crystal whispered, placing a hand on her arm, sending chills up and down her spine again. "I went back to apologize a few minutes after I left...the doors were locked from the inside."


	9. Chapter 9 and 10

----Ch 9-----

"I...I guess I better get going then." She muttered, picking herself up off the ground.

"Are you nuts?! Go where? Back to that place?! This proves that someone is there with you..."

"No, it just proves that I'm forgetful and that old doors lock themselves when slammed shut." She shot back, groping for any reasonable excuse. Inside, she was trembling. There was someone in there with her...the same someone who gave her the roses, and the dress, and the cape...

"You are not going back there tonight!" Marius snapped, grabbing her by the arms rougher than he meant to, breaking her concentration. "You are staying here, and that's final."

"But my stuff is back there..." She muttered, slightly in shock. The last time someone had grabbed her like that...she shivered unconsciously and lightly touched the back of her shoulders.

"You can go back tomorrow, Angel. But tonight...maybe you should just hang out here." Elisabet suggested, patting her other shoulder sympathetically.

"...ya, alright..." She murmured, agreeing unhappily. She bunked out in the armchair against the protests of possible uncomfort, and spent the night wondering what surprises would be waiting in store for her tomorrow. She closed her eyes against the headache of possibilities...

"Angel?" Crystal's voice broke her concentration, startling her. "You ok? You were mumbling in your sleep."

"Sleep? No, I wasn't asleep..." She replied, then realized that it was daylight that was pouring in through the windows instead of moonlight. "Oh, I guess I did fall asleep!!" She laughed. Stretching, she stood up and moved towards the door. "What time is it?"

"Almost nine." Crystal took her place in the armchair. "Aren't you going to eat something before you go back?"

"No, not hungry..." She muttered, distracted. Opening the door, she paused and turned back to her companion. "Did I...what did I say last night?" She watched as Crystal thought about it for a moment before replying.

"Something about an angel of music...why? Mean anything to you?" 

----Ch 10-----

Did that name mean anything to her? No, no...she could not have been whispering about some ghostly angel who she had never heard of before...could she? Walking down the dusty sidewalk, she hunched her shoulders against the pounding wind and glanced up at the stormy sky. Ominous blackness covered what moments ago had been brewing clouds. She groaned to herself as the sky opened up on her, dumping torrents of rain across the empty streets of Paris. She began to run, then slowed her pace to a sloshing stroll when she realized that she was not going to get there any dryer. As she shoved open the large entrance doors with her sopping shoulder, she was surprised that they were unlocked. Walking into the foreyard, she stood dripping before the second set of ordinate doors, wondering if they too would be unlocked. Only one way to find out...

The elaborately decorated doors swung open neatly, but she hesitated to move. Every time her friends stopped by, things were locked up. And yet, here she was, soaking wet, and every door was opening at a touch of her fingers. Was there really a phantom here? And why would he let her in above all others?

Shaking her head, spraying droplets of water everywhere, she sighed and stepped into the hall of mirrors. As she moved, thousands of reflected women strode in time with her. She paused to watch them, and felt like laughing. Or crying. She wasn't sure. There stood a woman of twenty, who looked like a drowned cat with her stringy long hair and wide blue eyes. Scared, cold, alone...she reached out unconsciously to comfort this shivering woman, coming back to terms with reality when her hand touched cold reflexive glass. She hung her head at her stupidity.

"Knock it off, Christy." She scolded herself out loud. She frowned, then made a face at her copy, laughing at herself. "Boy, I bet I look like a complete fool..." She muttered, then shivered again. Find something warm, something dry. That was the goal of the afternoon. As she wandered down the rest of the hall and up towards her room, she couldn't help but feel that there was someone monitoring her progress through the Opera House. Every time she turned, there was no one there, not even the cat. "Who am I expecting?" She asked herself out loud. "Le Mort Roux? M. Beau? The Opera Ghost himself?" She answered, feeling very alone. Keep talking, pretend that you aren't accompanied and at the same time very much alone, she told herself. But her teeth were chattering too much to make petty conversation with herself, so she laps back into edgy silence. Perhaps the rain would lighten up soon, and she could go back outside into the warm sunshine to dry off.

As it was, the rain was only coming down harder, and a chill descended though the Opera House's levels. She reached her room, stifling the urge to sneeze, and began going through her bag of things at once. Art supplies, a snow hat(an electric blue beanie, to be exact), pads of paper, more art supplies, lined paper, a book she has read until the edges were dog-eared, art, art, art!! She flung items onto the bed; knowing, hoping, praying that she would find her spare clothes any second. Nothing...

Falling onto the floor with an unsettling thud, she ran her hand over her tangled hair. Where were the clothes she knew she packed? Where were the warm pullovers and extra jeans? Where, where, where?!

Lightning cracked outside, splitting the charcoal black sky into halves. Jumping slightly, she shivered out of fear and cold, then remembered. She left the clothes back at the hotel, after using the washing machines to clean them!!!

Groaning at herself, she buried her wet head into her equally soaked arms, giving up. She had left all of her spare clothes back there, and there was nothing left for her. Shivering violently again, she pulled herself up onto her knees. Maybe she could at least take a hot bath and get out of these wet clothes, maybe wrap herself up in the bed's quilt until her only remaining garments were dry. She glanced at the corner of the room where the dressmaker's dummy still stood, garbed in the beautiful ball dress. No. Way. There was no way she was going to change into that. She would ruin the dress!!! Shaking her head again to rid her hair of the clinging droplets, she stood up all the way. Lightning flashed again, lighting up the entire room for a count of three. Something white stood apart in the glow, before the room plunged back into darkness. She gasped, holding her breath, then waited for the lightning to strike again. When it did, she rushed at the white icon, grabbing at something that felt like cottony silk. She laughed. It was just a folded-up dressing gown!!

"Jumpy, are we?" She asked herself out loud, mocking her own fear. Glancing down at the dress, she plucked at her own wet sleeve and sighed. "Whoever you are that keeps blessing me with these gifts, I hope you are aware that you're making a hypocrite out of me! I keep saying that I hate wearing dresses, and yet you keep giving them to me in circumstances that force me to wear them!!" She had to laugh at herself again, she was just beginning to sound like a complete fool. Sighing one last time, she glanced about in the darkness for any unwanted companions, and began to change.

As she smoothed her hands down the cotton-white gown's front, she could swear that she was hearing music being played. Stepping out into the corridor, she made her way towards the stage room, glancing about the whole time. Slowly, the song was becoming louder and clearer, and she recognized the tune. "Angel of Music..." She whispered to herself as the song died away to an echo. It was becoming even more familiar, the nagging in the back of her mind slowly unfolding a story her grandmother once told her, about her greataunt and a muse called the Angel of Music. Looking about urgently, she didn't see the shadow that crept along the edge of the curtain. She slipped backstage to where the music's echo was swelling in the very timbers themselves and, seemingly could not help herself, began to sing her own words to the song.

"Angel of Music/ you are hiding/ Shadow, he slips by me/ Angel of Music/ hide no longer/ grant an appearance by thee." She sang boldly, slowly climbing up to the catwalk above the stage. He paused, waiting for her to pass her eyes over his form, before moving to a better place to stand. She couldn't see him, could not find him, although he could easily watch her. But he found that his resistance to an answering stanza was impossible.

"Child, you know not what you ask for/ Nor know the reason I hide/ I have been forever waiting/ I am here, inside." He sang, ducking behind a grand mirror before she could turn and spot him. He heard the clatter of footsteps as she descended swiftly, and held his breath as the footbeats drew near, stopping in front of his very hiding spot.

"Angel of Muse/ you tease in calling/ both warming and chilling me through/ Angel, you're not/ but echoing riddles/ which I know not answers to!" He could hear her pause, almost hearing her pray in her mind for his vocal grace as an answer. After a few silent minutes, her footfalls turned back to crossing the catwalk. This deadly game of cat and mouse would lead to an unfortunate ending for them if it was to continue. He began to creep silently towards one of the stage's trapdoors when he spotted her on the highest catwalk. Blanching, he stopped in his tracks. That fool!!

She, unaware of the attention she had drawn or the danger she was in, continued on in her quest. Stepping across the rotting catwalks, she reached out for the rope that connected the warped planks to the ceiling. Each walk was really just one board laid out length wise, connected to the ceiling by four ropes, and at least three or four inches from the next plank. She swallowed in fear and reached out for the next rope. As she stretched her foot across, she suddenly felt the board beneath her give way.

As she fell, she saw him. Saw him just below her, his porcelain-white face rushing up to her. His arms were open wide, open for her, as if to dance with her. He looked like Death. She wondered if he would dance with her. Dance with her to her grave. Maybe she was already dead.


	10. Chapter 11

----Ch. 11------

When she woke, she was on a bed of crushed silk, surrounded by a veiled night. No, just a veil, concealing the room with its stitched darkness. Reaching out to touch the sheer wall, she was surprised when it brushed away like cobwebs. Rolling off her shoulder and sitting up straight, she gazed around as the room began to unfold. She was in a bed, true, but it was shaped like a swan...in truth, it looked as if it once was a swan boat!! Easing herself up and over the edge of the boat bed, she wobbled on unsure legs towards a golden light. She reached out to steady herself on the wall and found it to be made of stone. In fact, as her vision began to clear, she realized that the room in front of her was a cavern carved directly from stone!

"Well, I'm not dead..." She thought to herself, slowly wandering down a flight of stone steps towards the source of the beckoning light. "At least, I don't think I'm dead...which, of course, stands to reason that if I can think then I am not dead...at least, I think that's how it works. Where am I?" Suddenly, a quiet melody reached her ears. It was not the same one that led her to this deadly demise, but it was obviously played by the same hands. As she continued down the stone stairs, she was greeted by not one glowing golden light, but dozens of them!! Candles hovered in brass stands, each stand sprouting at least five or six arms, and every arm supporting a lit candle. She continued on, each of her shaky steps threatening to deposit her onto the cold stone floor, but she couldn't help it. A need urged her on, whether it was to merely find the music or the extravagant player themselves, she was unsure of, but nevertheless, she pressed on.

As she stepped past the last step, a massive organ came into view, its tall pipes with thin ribbons of smoke slithering from their slanted mouths. The very sight of it stopped her movements and stunned her so completely that she did not see the composer at first. Slowly, ever so slowly, she began to wander again towards the fantastic and mysterious sight.

"Who are you..." She whispered, her eyes fixed on the figure perched before the elaborate organ.

"I am known by many names. Stranger. Devil. Angel. Spirit. Genius. Madman. Guardian. Musician." He murmured back, refusing to look at her, instead, continuing to play at the organ. She slowly approached him from behind, unsure at first whether or not to join beside him, then rested her hands on the back of his shoulder with a feather-light touch.

"Then I shall know you as my hero." She whispered beside his ear, making him close his eyes in amorousness. She shifted to walk around past him and his organ, and suddenly felt herself fall, a startling pain shooting up her hip. He turned and reached out to catch her, quick as lightning, and she found herself wrapped up in his arms, pressed against him.

"You must be careful..." He murmured to her, easing her upright. "When you fell from the catwalk, I caught you, but you will still have a rather nasty bruise tomorrow..." She gazed wordlessly up into his caring masked face, her heart pounding. He gently sat her beside him on the organ bench, trying to break their locked gaze, but was transfixed. After moments, which seemed like eternity cut short, he slowly unwrapped his arms from her waist and rested his fingers back onto the organ's pearly keys. Resuming the song, he was painfully aware of every breath she took beside him, and wondered if she could hear his heart pounding beneath his ensemble. She slowly closed her eyes to shut out everything except his music and laid her head on the edge of his shoulder.

"Beautiful..." She murmured and he felt a swell of joy rush through his veins. She loved his aria. Perhaps, she could even love...No. He shook his head minutely, trying to dislodge his persistent hopes without disturbing her from her perch on his shoulder. No, it could never work. She could never...He glanced down at her. Could she?

He frowned to himself. Something was wrong here. Glancing back down at her, he realized that she extremely pale. "My dear Christine..."

"Christine...no one calls me that anymore..." She giggled to herself slightly. "But you may, my dear beau, and only you." He smiled at her last comment.

"Beau? So, you do remember our little chat?" He asked, his voice teasing her into opening her eyes.

"...it was you, wasn't it?" She asked, turning her face up towards him, and suddenly she seemed so small and helpless to him. "That was you who saved me that night...who gave me the dress...you're the Opera Ghost?"

"...Yes." He replied reluctantly, turning back to the keys and the sheets of music in front of him. It was that she knew less about him, then she would not hurt him as much when she left back to the lighted world.

"You say that as if it was a bad thing!" She laughed quietly again, sending a rush of heat to his face. "The dress is beyond gorgeous...why didn't you say anything that night, let me know it was you? I wanted to thank you..." She stood up slightly, her hand on his shoulder to balance herself as she rested her knees on the bench seat.

"Then do so." He told her curtly. Damn, it was going to be painful to return her to the world above...it was already hurting him! She grew quiet, cocking her head as she studied his face. "...you have suddenly lost your tongue?" He asked, softening his tone into a coddling tease.

"You've stopped playing." Was her explanation. They shared a look for a few moments, and he was surprised to find there was no fear there. "It was very pretty..."

"If you wish." He nodded and began to play once more. In truth, he had not noticed that he had ever stopped. She seemed to be taking up his mind... perhaps... "Christine?" He called gently, turning when he got no reply. She was still watching his face, scrutinizing his mask, unaware that he had turned to her. "Christine...please..."

"I wont ask." She assured him, smiling gently, and surprisingly he felt at ease. "I will only ask you one thing."

"Anything but this." He agreed, and turned the page of his aria. She pursed her lips for a second, as if judging on how to word her question.

"Who are you? Really?" He rested his fingers on the keys, ducking his head, trying to decide on what to do. "Ghost or man, I don't care. I just want to know who is the one who saved me and gave me such beauty." His heart ached as he turned to her and he was sure the pain was showing through his eyes. He placed two fingers over her eyes, closing the lids shut.

"...I am nothing more than a dream." He whispered, and caught her as she leaned sideways off the bench. Holding her to his chest, he frowned to himself again, cursing himself that this was the way things must be. It could not be any different...she could never really love him, not the real him. It was the way things were. "...Nothing but a dream." He repeated to himself, stroking her bangs from her face. Suddenly, his gloved hand paused. Odd...her cheeks were warm...too warm...Pressing his palm to her forehead, he jerked it away with alarm. "You are burning up, mon belle! Oh, the retched storm, brewing above!! You have caught a fever..." Gathering her up in his arms, he began to carry her off into the darkness, to somewhere she could rest and recover from the night's events.


	11. Chapter 12

----Ch 12-----

She woke suddenly and shot straight up. Where was the half-masked man who played such beautiful music? Where was her beau Phantom? ...And where, exactly, was she?

Looking about, she realized that she was back in her own bed. Sunlight was streaming through the closed window's shear blinds, illuminating the empty room. Nowhere was a single sign that last night happened, except for the fact that she was still clothed in the white dressing gown. Pressing a hand to her forehead, she took a couple of deep breaths. Perhaps it really was just a dream...

Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and standing up, she suddenly felt herself fall forward, and grasped the bed frame tightly. Frowning to her reflection in the full-length mirror, she slowly raised the hem of the dressing gown up to her hip. There, stretching across and down her thigh and calf, was a large multicolored burse. Well...perhaps last night did happen!!!

"Yo, Angel? Annnnnnnnnnnnnngellll!!!" Crystal's voice reverberated through the Opera's upper levels. Groaning, she dropped the hem of her dressing gown and ran her fingers through her hair. No matter what, no one could see this humongous bruise. No one could know...

"There you are! We were worried about you after you left in the storm! And then we found all your spare clothes back at the hotel, so I brought your bag back as soon as the rain started to lighten up and...where did you find that?" Crystal's never ending string of words suddenly cut short, waiting for her to answer.

"Um...in the desk there..." She pointed to her dresser top, causing Crystal to give her a funny glance.

"You feeling alright?" Crystal asked, placing a hand on her forehead. "Angel...you're hot!"

"Why thank you." She snapped, brushing off the back of Crystal's hand from her forehead and then capturing the bedpost in a death grip. "But, really, I prefer to just be friends..."

"You've got a fever, you stupid idiot." Crystal snapped back, eyes rolling. "Get into bed." Without a moment to grumble or complain, she was ushered back to the quilted bed. "Now you are going to stay there until you fall asleep."

"May I get back up after I'm asleep?" She asked sarcastically, causing Crystal to perform another eye roll. "Right...sleep..." She sighed to herself and, much against her will, felt herself began to drift off. "Hey, Crystal? You'll never believe this, but I could of sworn I heard the most beautiful music last night...played by this extremely handsome man. He looked like an angel..."

"Mmm...maybe you saw a Strelizia." Crystal replied offhandedly.

"A what?" She laughed.

"A Strelizia. A mythical bird form an island in the far southern seas...deserted, of course. India has some stories about how it is suppose to have a voice more beautiful than any other songbird...and a presence as gorgeous as its song. And," Crystal added in a sly tone. "It is said that they only sing for their true love." She felt her face grow hot.

"Crystal..." She called weakly.

"Yes?"

"Shut up. I'm trying to sleep." And, with that, she fell asleep to the sound of the most beautiful voice laughing quietly in her ear.

When she woke up, it was dark and the storm was over. Getting out of bed, she realized that Crystal must have gone back to the hotel or out to get food, for she was very much alone.

She wondered about the story her grandmother once told her, about the Opera Ghost and the magic of the Night. Suddenly remembering one story in particular, she got up and made her way through the moonlit corridors to a single room that she wasn't even sure existed. Still, all doubts were set aside as she felt a tug of instinct and certainty pull her in one direction.

A set of doors, no different that others that she had passed, suddenly struck her as the right one. She reached out and took the cold brass knobs into her wavering grip, slowly turning them and throwing open the doors. A room as dark as night was splayed out in front of her, nothing seemingly out of the ordinary. But an old memory said otherwise.

She faintly remembered a story her grandmother Meg told her once, of angels and music, of a single rose tied with a black ribbon and a mirror with a secret behind its surface. And as she made her way hesitantly into the foreign room, there it was. The magical mirror.

Touching the dusty and cracked face, the thought of how foolish she must look flashed through her mind. If anyone was to come by, she could tell them she was sleep walking. But who would be here as late as she? Still, the sense of being caught was impending. She was both nervous at not figuring out the secret behind the story and annoyed that she could not find anything that set this particular mirror apart from the very same one she had in her bedroom; a combination of emotions that caused her to smack the surface with the flat palm of her hand. Suddenly, her image wavered, and the mirror bounced slightly, as if it was not tight in its frame. Bending down to inspect its frame more closely, she realized that it was actually on a rusted tract. Grasping the edge of the mirror with her fingertips, she eased the reflected room to the side, revealing a foreboding and cavernous passage way. Standing back up, she licked her lips out of nerves, and stepped inside the darkness.

Water drops against the stone-paved floor echoed with her own bare footslaps around her. A chill was present, along with a sense of fear. This was a place no one should be, she realized. Her great-grandmother was right to pull her teenaged grandmother from this ghastly depth. Still, there was a need to be filled; the need to find where this led to, the need to find who it was that occupied the Opera House with her after dark.

A gloved hand suddenly gripped both her shoulder and elbow, spinning her around and marched her back toward the doorway from which she came. Wrenching about, she tried to get a glimpse of the person, but was abruptly and unceremoniously dumped out of the sordid passage way and past the mirror's gilded frame. As she landed in a stumbling heap beside a faded bureau, she caught a brief flash of stark white before the mirror's face began to slowly close again.

"Wait, please!" She shouted, throwing her shoulder against the mirror's reflective surface, but it would not budge again. "Please!" She cried again, finally pounding her fist against the looking glass' skin in surrender. "Fine! Ignore me! Shut me out! But I have something for you!! Do you hear me?! I wanted you to have this..." She glanced down at the small bundle tied to her belt loop, then back at her own blustered image. "Look, you don't have to respond or even be courteous enough to tell me to get lost, but I wanted you to have it. I'm going to leave it on the stage...if you want it, take it. If not, don't, and I'll collect it tomorrow morning. But make up your mind, damnit!" She shouted, brushing her familiar wisps away from her face in annoyance and stalked out of the abandoned dressing room. Behind the mirror, he continued leaning up against the one-way mirror's door, pondering this last exchange, then decided it was at least worth looking into.

Easing himself over the stage via catwalk, he could see that he was alone in the opera room. The moonlight which flooded across the faded velvet seats and poured over the wooded planks of the stage shone brightly on a minute package. He glanced around once again, then slowly descended the steps towards the gift. Reaching down in a graceful bow, he picked up a pouch with protruding corners. What could be within that would have such a shape? Undoing the drawstrings, he gently slid out the gift onto his gloved palm.

It was the hand carved music box.


	12. Chapter 13

----Ch 13-----

He stared at the box, the first light of morning accenting the intricate carvings on the lid and cast shadows into the wood grains. She had spent weeks upon weeks on this, and from what he heard the other day, months on it before she ever came to the Opera House. Yet she had given it to him...

Easing the lid open, his eyes widened as two miniature figures danced to the tune of "Masquerade". The inside of the box was lined with a blood red swath of crushed velvet, a shade or two darker than his own preferred color. She must have added this detail, along with the two figures, after their meeting. Peering closer at the miniature figures, he realized with a gasp that the female bore an uncanny resemblance to herself and wore the exact dress that he gave her to wear to her own masquerade. The male also wore a familiar Spanish red costume, and looked startlingly familiar to him. In fact, it was his own haunting reflection, only with a black doublet mask instead of his everyday, white, half-faced mask. He felt his heart seize up and tears threaten to spill into his eyes, which he brushed away briskly. She did remember their exchange that night. And somewhere between the night at the hotel and this very night, she had added his figure in.

"Beauty for beauty..." He whispered to himself, remembering his own words, and smiled. She was reaching out to him, seeking him, and he knew just how to reciprocate...

"Oh, Tom-Tom, I don't know if it will work..." She murmured to the purring feline. In response to her worried tone, the black and orange cat rolled over on his back for his stomach to be scratched. "Things are just peachy for you, aren't they, Tom? You have nothing to worry about, and your way of helping me is to have me rub your tummy!" The cat blinked up at her sharp pitch then continued to purr. "I'm sorry, Thom." She whispered, laying her head on the quilt beside the cat. "I don't mean to sound so awful...I'm just nervous that my plan wont work. You see," she whispered into the cat's coned ear. "I know that there is someone here. I met him...or her..." She added as an afterthought, and then shook her head. That mysterious and angelic voice was defiantly a 'him'. "Tonight in one of the rooms. So I gave the music box to him as a gift. I just hope he will like it..." She yawned and closed her eyes; scratching the behind the cat's ears gently. "I just hope he'll like it..." Unbeknownst to her, a shadowy figure was watching as she slipped back into the land of sleep, and was smiling kindly at her still figure. The cat hissed quietly for a brief second as the old-fashioned air vent's grill opened outward, making a gap wide enough to allow a person to slip easily in and out of the room. The cat settled back down as the shadowy figure slipped into the room as quiet as night, and began to purr once more.

When she woke the next morning, a light breeze ruffled the mesh curtains in past the windowsill and the bureau's chair, both which were different from when she collapsed onto the bed the night before. Stepping lightly, she went to the window, glancing out briefly before shutting the windowpanes. Turning back to push in the chair, she noticed that the breeze had scattered open an oblong, dusty-red package that was resting on the bureau's surface. Hesitantly, she opened the portfolio-like package and allowed the insides to spill out onto the wooden face. Parchments of faded yellows and grays, baring the markings of traditional music, bore the inscription "O.G." in a flowery script. Gently cradling the papers to her chest as she crossed the room, she then spread the music sheets across her patchworked coverlet and began to read.

An hour later, she lay back and closed her eyes. What a story! A tale with such emotion, that even after she set aside the papers and tied them up with ribbon, they still tore at her heart. Such a sad opera, she realized, must have been written by a sad soul. Perhaps, a rather familiar sad soul, one she met recently...

"Hey, Ange!" Marius' voice cut through her thoughts roughly. She opened her eyes to see her sudden companion stride through the doorway. "How ya doing? Crystal said that you weren't feeling all that hot, but she couldn't get back in after going out for some meds...what's up?" She had closed her eyes again against the tidal wave of noise. He could be so irritating sometimes...Suddenly, she felt his cool hand rest against her forehead, and she opened her eyes to meet his pale orbs staring concerned at her. "Are you ok?" Marius asked, voice low and actually filled with genuine worry.

"Ya...I'm alright. Just...I'm still just a little dizzy and tired." She replied and mustered up a smile. Shuffling her legs around, she managed to stand up semi-gracefully, feeling a small stab of annoyance at the way he stared at her bare legs when she did so.

"Well, hey, if you're tired you should be laying down. You know, sleeping." Marius protested, reaching out to steady her swaying form. She winced as he gripped her elbow, remembering how the unknown and masked man had guided her last night from the tunnel by her elbow and how their two grips were nothing alike. "Listen, why don't you come back to the hotel with me? We can call a cab if you aren't up to walking---"

"Its just around the corner." She protested through clinched teeth. The combination of the pressure on her elbow joint and the bruise on her leg was becoming too much.

"And everyone is out sight-seeing, so we can have the room all to ourselves. Perfect quietness for you to sleep off that tiredness." Marius continued as if she never spoke, covering his suggestive sentence with lame reasoning.

"Marius...let go..."

"I'm serious. You've been spending way too much time alone up here." Marius ignored her, trying to steer her towards the door.

"Stop it...let go---you're hurting me!" She cried out, trying to wrench herself from his grip. He let go out of surprise from her out burst, watching as she stumbled back onto the bed. They remained in their fixed positions for a few voiceless moments.

"You really should come back with me." Marius finally ended the silence, striking up his previous point. She just glared up at him wearily, rubbing at her elbow. "I mean it..."

"I heard you the first couple of times." She grumbled. Sighing, she sat up straighter. "Listen, I am fine where I am. I don't need any watching over or anyone to baby sit me..."

"No, you listen!" He shouted over the end of her words, cutting her off abruptly. "This isn't good for you! Living up here all by yourself. What if something was to happen to you, or you needed help and no one could get in? What are you going to do then, lil' miss smart ass?" She stared coldly at Marius as he sighed and walked over, sitting beside her. "...I didn't mean that..."

"Yes you did." She replied coldly.

"At least, not the way it came out..." Marius tried to reason it away, but she cut him off again.

"Yes, you did." Echoed over his words, even more coldly than before. Marius' frown darkened as she continued. "You meant every word you said, just the way you said it. Listen, I know you're worried. I know everyone is worried about me. But I'm fine." She reassured him, taking his hands in hers. "Honestly, truly, I am fine. It's just a tiny fever, I don't need any medication or any other help. I am fine."

"Alright, maybe you're fine, but I still want you to come back with me." Marius blew her comforting words off, drawing his hands from hers, wrapping his arms around her chest and shoulders. "No, I know you don't want to hear this," Marius continued, ignoring her headshakes and minor struggles to free herself. "But you need to. Come back with me. We'll hang out, just the two of us, it will be like old times..."

"Like what, before you started to be a libido-istic jerk?" She snapped back, finally freeing herself from Marius' arms and shoving at his chest to push him away. Face darkening, his hand blurred through the air towards her head, but deflected and merely struck the pillow.

"Fine, you want to be a bitch and stay sick up here? Fine! Stay up here and die for all I care!!" Marius shouted in her face, standing up and clomping out of the room. Wrapping her arms around herself, she knew that she had pushed his temper too far, that he was only trying to help her by doing what he thought right. Nonetheless, she was glad to be alone once more and couldn't wait until the sun began to set.

Night fell all too slowly, and she sat at the bureau, nervously brushing her hair. Whoever was this Angel of Music, the O.G. of the Opera House, they were bound to come tonight. She was sure of it. He had accepted her music box, and had given her this opera in return. She set the brush down and glanced back at the stack of papers. The whole opera was so sad...a tale of love, longing and loss. Of a man who fell in love with a woman who only loved his disguised voice. She wasn't sure, but from the way the songs sounded, the woman had loved another man, while also loving the mystery surrounding the voice she would hear, this 'Angel of Music'. In the end, the woman went with the other man, despite what the voice offered. The only creepy factor in the beautifully written opera was that the leading lady was named 'Christine'.

"Almost like Cyrano, only more tragic...and no long noses..." She murmured to herself, smiling in spite of her nerves.

"And who is this Cyrano person?" A rather familiar and alluring voice asked from nowhere. Starting slightly, she turned about, looking for the source of the voice.

"A Shakespearian character..." She replied and was surprised to find that her voice did not shake. There was a silence that told her the invisible companion was contemplating the answer, and then she could of sworn she felt him nod, although she was not sure how one could feel another nodding. The unseen man spoke again suddenly.

"Why did you give it to me?" He asked low, keeping to the shadows of the room. She spotted him suddenly and stood to move closer, only to send him scampering back further. Sighing in both frustration and melancholy, she hovered by the chair, neither coming closer to the mystery man nor resigning herself to merely sitting. "Why, after working so hard and so long, did you give it to a complete stranger?"

"Why did you give me your story?" She shot back, understanding what he meant immediately. "It is your story, isn't it. It is what happened the night, and the days leading up, to the grand chandelier crash. So why tell me?" When he didn't answer, she spoke his obvious thoughts out loud. "Because we are no longer strangers to each other, are we? You've saved my life, we've been introduced somewhat to one another; I'd say that qualifies us as at least acquaintances with benefits!" She smiled, then shook her head lightly when he did not understand the joking reference. "How long have you been here, hidden away?"

"What year is it?" He asked after a pause.

"Two thousand and five." She noticed the pregnant pause before he answered again.

"One hundred and thirty-five years."

"All alone?!" She gasped. His shadowy form cocked its head, opening his mouth as if to say something, then paused, choosing his words carefully.

"Haven't you chosen to be alone? To isolate yourself from your friends and school mates?" He finally asked.

"I've always felt there was something...else here. Something that I couldn't find out there in the noise of the modern world." She murmured, seemingly, mostly to herself, looking down and away. Suddenly, her head shot up. "Why have you set yourself apart?"

"...You will know in time." He answered in a roundabout way. "Why the dancers?" He asked, changing the subject abruptly.

"Dancers?" She frowned quizzically, then her eyebrows shot up in understanding. "OH! The music box...Well, I always planned the female dancer, but I knew I would have to find her a partner...I just didn't have a clue what he would look like..." She shrugged. "Until I met a certain waltzer on my birthday." She gave him a secret smile, making him smile back, despite the clinch in his heart and stomach. "Won't you please step out here, into the light? It's really hard to have a conversation with a corner..." His smile suddenly became a tender, sad one.

"No...not to-night." He murmured, and his white mask began to fade away.

"Hey, wait!" She cried, dashing forward with her hands outstretched to stop him from disappearing, but they only met wood. Somehow, the phantom man had melted away into thin air right in front of her eyes! "Now, how the hell...?" She muttered, frowning to herself. Examining the wooden panels, she found nothing, and wandered out into the hallway outside the doorframe to study the wood on that side. In truth, if she had only bent down three feet and looked into the old air vent, she would have been staring right into his eyes. But as it was, he was breathing a sigh of relief and joy at the moment. She really did want to get to know him...or was it just the voice? The Angel of Music had led a woman by the heart while he led her by the hand once before. Was the case still the same? Was this Christine destined to follow in the footsteps of the previous one? Only time would tell, he decided. And he had all the time in the world.


	13. Chapter 14

----Ch 14-----

"I'm telling you, she needs to get out more..."

"I know, I know, but what can we do? We're her friends, not her parents..."

"Ya, well, I wouldn't listen to her parents either. As it is, we can only act as concern friends and that's that..."

"...don't know why she's being so damn stubborn..."

A melody of Marius, Elisabet and Crystal's voice echoed and reverberated throughout the Opera House's grand marble entry way. Rolling her eyes, she ignored their approaching footsteps and continued to sketch. The topic was she, as always of late, and she knew that they cared but it was just becoming annoying.

"I can take care of myself." She muttered to no one in particular, switching graphite pencils. It had been a few days since she had encountered the masked man and both the fever and the bruise had began to fade quickly. The phantom beau had yet to return to her, but she would often have the sense that he was near. A shade out of the corner of her eye, a ghost flitting behind the scenes. He was here, somewhere, and they would meet again. At least, that was what she was hoping. But, first, she would need to get rid of her friends. "...Take care of myself..." She repeated, setting aside her sketchbook.

"Hey, Angel." Elisabet reached out, helping her up off the floor. She dusted off her jeans and accepted the apple Elisabet held out as Crystal and Marius looked on.

"Hey guys. Remember, its twenty cents to watch the monkey eat. Forty if it's a banana." She teased, uncomfortable at their carefully created smiles. Only Elisabet and Crystal's laughs were real. "So, what's up?"

"We want you to---" Marius' demanding tone was cut short as Crystal elbowed him in the gut.

"Well, we found a really neat zoo and park area, with a bunch of animals that the zoo back home doesn't have, so..." Elisabet glanced over at Crystal, and the silent message was clear. How to get her to go along with them, to get out of the Opera House. She decided to take pity on the trio.

"Any pen-pens?" She asked. Marius and Elisabet wore a look of confusion on their faces, but Crystal lit up.

"Yes!" Jumping on the question, Crystal energetically looped arms with her and the four started for the door. "Penguins and lions and tigers and all sorts of creatures!"

"Oh my." She added dryly. "Alright, I'll come. Just let me snag my sketchbook..."

Noon, at the Zoo

It had been a long walk throughout the park, but the group finally sat down for a break in the very heart of the zoo. Resting on an occupied bench, Crystal glanced over at Marius and Elisabet, signaling that they should go and find something to drink.

"Spill. Now." Crystal demanded, turning to look over at her. She just opened one eye to stare passively at her friend. "There is something going on, and you aren't telling me. You've changed, Angel...I don't know how exactly but there's something different. What is going on in that abandoned Opera House?"

"Nothing. Honestly." She replied, lying through her teeth. Crystal eyed her once more, then sighed and sat back.

"You were always a lousy liar." She smiled as Crystal lightly punched her arm, then nodded.

"I'm fine...really." She reassured her friend, who frowned doubtfully. "Fine."

"Just promise that if you need any help, you'll..."

"I'll ask for it." She agreed with a sigh. They grinned again as the heroes returned with the much needed drinks.

That night, back at the Opera House

"...end your days with me...send him to his grave..." She sang sparingly, sketching the slanted moonlight that shone in through one of the rooftop windows and reflected off the chandelier. Frowning as she searched in the dark for another pencil, she shoved the battery powered bar light off to one side. "Why on earth did I bring this stupid thing?" She muttered to herself, moving the florescent elongated lamp again and made sure it was turned off. The moronic thing had a habit of being switched on by the slightest touch. She sighed and turned back to her sketchbook.

Unbeknown to her, she had a fan up in the wings of the Opera room. He slinked through the slitted darkness, hoping that, once he got to the ground floor, he would be able to get close enough to her to see the picture. The song picked up again, slicing through the night (and his heart) in a beautiful and almost painful way. Perhaps she did not know that he was here, but she might know well enough not to sing that in his Opera House. Oh well...that is what he got for giving her the music...

Sliding down one of the gilded ropes to the floor, he crouched still for a moment, praying she didn't hear him. No. She sat as still as before, giving him the chance to come closer than he ever had before without her noticing. Creeping up behind her, he crouched low and placed his hand on the floor to stable himself. At least, he placed his hand on what he thought was the floor. In fact, it was actually the bar light, which snapped to life at the mere touch, causing her to whirl around, her eyes wide in fright. Frozen, caught in the white blinding light, all he could do was stare wide-eyed back. She slowly set the sketchbook on the floor, twisting all the way around to face him, and reached out her hand. Yes, she thought as her hand made solid contact with his shirt, he was really there. She gave him a small, reassuring smile, trying to drive away the look of terror in his eyes.

"What are you doing here?" She asked quietly, licking her lips nervously. He sat back on his heels, unable to break eye contact.

"...I live here." He replied low and she laughed, causing the look of fear to turn into confusion.

"I know, I'm sorry..." She giggled to herself and he couldn't help but smile back.

"I am not sure what is so funny..." He spoke thoughtfully. "But you have a rather infectious laugh." She blushed at the compliment.

"Thanks..." They lapsed into silence, and she finally picked up the sketchbook, fondling the metal spiral. "You wanna see?" She asked, and handed the book over as he nodded. Biting her lip as he flipped through the pages, she waited in the lighted silence for him to say something.

"...Wow..." He finally whispered, causing her to blush even more. He suddenly frowned to himself as she busied herself with collecting the various pencils. There was something constant with these sketches...there, in the corner of one balcony still life, was a shadowy figure. And there, once more, there was a person peaking out from between two statues. Even the sketch of the penguins at the zoo...one of the flightless birds had an interesting white marking on the side of its face. That is the constant...him!

Looking up as the light snapped off, he was suddenly bathed back in darkness, feeling a pang of emotion in his chest. Maybe she was open to being with him, to even loving him...But for now, he was all alone in the darkness of his Opera House, holding the only clue in the world that someone cared.


	14. Chapter 15

----Ch 15-----

"Windmill, Windmill for the land/ Learn forever hand in hand/ Take it all in on your stride/ It is sticking, falling down/ Love forever love is free/ Let's turn forever you and me/ Windmill, windmill for the land/ Is everybody in?" She sang to herself, sitting at the bureau and scanning her latest pictures into the computer she just installed. In all reality, it was a laptop with a broken screen that she had connected to a computer monitor, but that worked fine for what she used it for, mainly scanning her pictures and posting them online.

Stretching as she finished scanning the last page, she yawned and saved everything to its back-up disk. She should go to sleep, but she wanted to post the pictures first...and then write the descriptions...and the motives, plus the meanings behind each and every single one...

Just as she was being lulled off by the breeze, which blew through the open bay window, she felt a silk hand fall upon her shoulder. She turned with a start, looking at the looming figure above her, her face breaking into a smile as the giant shadow set the forgotten sketchbook beside her laptop, then put a finger to his lips and led her out of the room by the tips of their hands. He led her through dimly lit corridor after hardly lit corridor, and eventually he led her out onto the roof off one of the Opera House's side houses

"...Wow..." She breathed in amazement. And what a sight it was. The whole sea of Paris, its rooftops bathed in moonlight, the harvest moon hanging pregnant only inches from those peaked stone waves. It was enough to take anyone's breath away. She turned to him, hardly able to tear her eyes from this gorgeous sight, and met his own eyes, taking her breath completely away. There was so much warmth, so much want; the need to understand and to be understood. He slowly slipped his gloved hand around the side of her face, stroking her cheek, then bent slightly as if to kiss her. "...wow." She whispered again as he held his face only a few inches away.

Slowly, she cupped her hand to his neck and drew her face the last few inches towards his. As their cheeks touched, she gasped quietly, and he closed his eyes. She knew now what before she only suspected, and he was prepared for whatever may come; whether she would draw away from him or something far greater, he was ready.

He was ready for anything, except for what happened next.

"Angel? ANGEL?!" Marius' voice rang sharp in the crisp night, breaking the two apart quickly. Whirling away into the darkened shadow of one of the stone statues that littered the rooftop, he watched as she held her hands out, as if to ward off the approaching figure. "Angel, what the hell are you doing up here?!" Marius demanded, grabbing her roughly by the shoulders.

"I-I-I don't know..." She stammered, her eyes wide in fright, her mind grasping for any excuse. "I must have been...sleepwalking..."

"That is it, you're coming back to the hotel with me. Sleepwalking?! You could of killed yourself!!" In the shadows, he felt the overwhelming urge to reach out and strangle the annoying man as he watched her being dragged off towards the roof door. The only possible thing that stopped him from striding out into the moonlight and doing the deed was the look she gave him before the door closed behind her. It said 'stay hidden you great idiot. I'll be back soon'. That look alone caused him to bite back his words and stifle his actions.

Perhaps this could be dealt with in another manner...like poison...

"Marius---please, wait!" She gasped, trying to catch her footing while being dragged down a metal spiral staircase. "Please, you're hurting me!!"

"Well, you should of thought about things before staying here---things like being hurt from falling several stories and splattering on the pavement!!" Marius snapped back, increasing his pace and the pressure on her wrist. "Angel, when are you going to realize that staying here is dangerous!?!" He yanked her from the last of the metal steps and practically carried her past sheets of faded scenery. Their parade of complaints and lecturing shouts continued all the way to the very entrance of the Opera House, where she collapsed on the stone steps. Cradling her freed wrist to her chest, she refused to look up, even as Marius apologized and sat beside her with his arms wrapping tenderly around her shoulders.

"Angel...I'm sorry...I just don't want to see you get hurt...If something was to happen to you..." Marius' words trailed off as he held her to his chest. They sat there together on the stone steps of the Opera House, watching as the darkness began to lighten into dawn.


	15. Chapter 16

----Ch 16-----

"...And then?"

"And then nothing. I agreed to come back here...and here I am." She finished, glancing around the table at her two best friends. Elizabet and Crystal traded worried looks, then both reached for another bagel.

"That prick." Crystal was the first to comment, splitting the bagel in half and offering it to the others. "He had no right to do that. No right and no fucking reason to do that to you at all." Elizabet nodded, accepting the bagel half, and glanced at her wrist.

"Lemme see again..." Elizabet asked and sighed as she complied, pulling back the flowing sleeve to show off the purple and black bruise on her wrist. "Damn, you should of hit him."

"Never crossed my mind..." She admitted, knowing that she could never tell the two friends what was really happening before Marius' intrusion.

"Well, as much as he is a total jackass, he was right." Crystal sighed again, leaning back in the chair. "You could have been in real trouble if you had wandered near the edge..." Leaving the rest of the thought to hang in the air, Crystal took a bite out of the plain bagel.

"I'll be more careful tonight." She said off handedly, reaching for a chocolate glazed doughnut. Crystal swallowed the mouthful of bagel roughly.

"You're not going back! Its way, way to dangerous...with you sleepwalking and all!!!"

"Then I'll tie my wrists and ankles to the bed post next time, but I'm going back." She replied in a finalizing tone.

"I bet he'd like that." Crystal shot back slyly, causing her to choke on her doughnut.

"Wouldn't it just be easier to buy a door?" Elizabet commented lightly, sipping at the hot mug of coffee.

"Don't be vulgar...its way to early in the morning." Crystal just glanced at the clock and shrugged.

"Its three in the afternoon."

"Whatever." She snapped back, teasingly, smiling at her two friends as she stood up.

"You going to join up for swimming today?" Elizabet asked off-handedly, reaching for the sugar bowel.

"No, I have---"

"---more artwork to do!" The other two chorused, earning a chuckle.

"Wise asses." She quipped, reaching for a second doughnut for the road. Halfway down the street, she started chuckling to herself. Not knowing why, she began to laugh so hard, that she had to sit down and wipe tears that were blinding her eyes. Somehow, the laughter turned into sobbing and she just sat there in front of the Opera House, crying.

A few minutes passed and she stood up silently, brushing away the last of the tears with a contented sigh. "Crying is so annoying...but it's nice every once in a while." Picking her stuff up, she started up the large stone steps, humming some nameless tune.

"I'm baaaaaaaaaaaaack!!!" She called, bursting into the main opera room, her arms thrown open. When there was no reply, she added "...And I brought doughnuts!" Again, nothing but the pressing silence. "Hummph. Well, fine. I guess you're just working. We'll catch up later over some treats." Muttering to herself, she set everything down on one of the marble steps and began to work herself.

"We're going down, down/ in an earlier round/ And, Sugar, we're goin' down swinging/ I'll be your number one with a bullet/ A loaded gun complex/ cock it an' pull it!" She sang over and over, happily sketching color into her drawing of the Opera's ballroom. This book of art was almost as tall as she, and yet she lugged it around happily.

As she stood up, collected her things and moved up three steps, there was a lull in the music. He, himself, shifted slightly to the left, easing himself down between two inset statues. It had been over three hours since she returned, and yet he was content to watch as she worked, although he knew she was looking for him. Mulling over whether she would be mad that he had avoided her or just glad to see him, he smiled to himself. She sat back down, propping the overly large book of paper against her knees, and started to sketch again. This time, the song had changed. It was just as upbeat, just as sad, but it had a more personal message; as if she knew he was listening.

"I'm giving up on doing this alone now/ Cause I've failed and I'm ready to be shown how/ He's told me the way and I'm trying to get there/ And this life sentence that I'm serving/ I admit that I'm every bit deserving/ But the beauty of grace is that it makes life not fair/ Cause I've been housing all this doubt and insecurity and/ I've been locked inside that house all the while You hold the key/ And I've been dying to get out and that might be the death of me/ And even though, there's no way in knowing where to go/ promise I'm going because/ I gotta get outta here/ Cause I'm afraid that this complacency is something I can't shake/ I gotta get outta here/ And I'm begging You, I'm begging You, I'm begging You/ to be my escape..." He silently crept down to the very top of the marble stairs, taking care not to disturb her as he descended the giant steps.

"I am a hostage to my own humanity/ Self detained and forced to live in this mess I've made/ And all I'm asking is for You to do what You can with me/ But I can't ask You to give what You already gave/ Cause I've been housing all this doubt and insecurity and/ I've been locked inside that house all the while you hold the key/ And I've been dying to get out and that might be the death of me/ And even though, there's no way in knowing where to go, promise I'm going because/ I've gotta get outta here/ I'm stuck inside this rut that I fell into by mistake/ I've gotta get outta here/ And I'm begging You, I'm begging You, I'm begging You /to be my escape!" She ended the song abruptly once more, shutting the lid on her supplies with a loud snap. Standing up to dust the plaster off her jeans, she turned and gave a small hop of surprise. "Shit! You scared me..." She scowled, hand at her chest to stifle her pounding heart.

"Is everyone in your time so loose with curses?" He pondered out loud, frowning briefly. She just gave him a bemused look, bending over to collect her things. He continued his original line of thought aloud as he walked with her towards her room. "When you work, you are so focused, so intent on the outcome, that you forget everything else around you. Many times I have watched over your shoulder, or sat beside you, and you have not noticed."

"I noticed you the time you accidentally turned on my bar light." She reminded him, smiling at the incident and the shocked look on his face at being caught. "I also noticed every single time you brought me food."

"That does not count." He argued lightly. "You did not notice me, you noticed that someone had handed you an apple or left some bread where you would find it without looking." They paused at the mouth of her door and smiled at one another. "You had never caught me then."

"Then." She agreed, heading in to drop her supplies onto the faded patchwork. She kept to herself the fact that he was in almost every single picture she had done since the early days of coming to the Opera House to draw.

"But is has been three months..."

"Yes, it has." He agreed, smiling and waiting for her next move. She smiled back at him, obviously calculating some sort of scheme behind her eyes, and turned back towards her room.

"It's been so long, but I still can't get over how beautiful this dress is." She sighed contently, flouncing down onto the bed and resting her chin in her hand. "It's a shame that it was only used once..."

"Perhaps we should have another gala?" He suggested, coming up behind her and placing a hand on the wooden bed frame. She raised her eyebrow at the plural identification, and then laughed kindly when he glanced away. She raised herself onto her knees, scoot-walking closer to him. Leaning over, there was a break in the conversation, one that was cut extremely short.

"Angel...are you up there?" A voice echoed throughout the timbers, making both parties turn towards the uncovered doorway. He reluctantly stepped backwards towards one of the semi-shadowy corners, frowning to himself.

"Perhaps we should..." She agreed, nodding at him, acknowledging that the conversation would be picked up again later. She turned towards the doorway just as Crystal and Elisabet walked in. "What's up, guys?"

"Nothing...what are you up to?" Crystal asked, shooting her a teasing look, making Elisabet laugh. She frowned to herself, wondering what was going on here.

"Just---"

"---art." The other two finished for her, laughing.

"If you knew what I was going to say, why ask?" She smirked, trying very hard not to turn and check if her phantom beau was still there.

"For fun." Elisabet giggled. "You know, keeping everyone in stitches." The last bit earned a groan from the others.

"Was that a doctor joke?" Crystal asked, nudging her in the ribs. She rolled her eyes at Elisabet.

"So, how's the work at the hospital?" She asked, trying to make small talk. Elisabet shrugged. "Learning a lot. Getting some work done. Meeting hot doctors." Elisabet finished with a wink, sending the other two into peals of laugher. "Come on, lemme take you two out for lunch. Doctor's salary."

"Works for me!" Crystal laughed, turning to the distracted friend. "Angel?"

"Hmm?" She asked, pulled out of thought.

"You coming?" Crystal teasingly nudged her ribs, then noticed that she didn't respond as normal. "Angel? What's up?"

Glancing over her shoulder at the empty corner, she replied, "Oh, nothing..."


	16. Chapter 17

Warning: Some strong language!

----Ch 17-----

"...And, so anyways, he just smiled at me and said 'Eenglish ist my second language' all cute like!" Elisabet finished the story to girlish peals of laughter. The trio was seated around a clothed table, sipping on drinks, and taking in the Paris view.

"Speaking of cute," Crystal began, shooting a subtle look at Elisabet before both looked over at her. "Angel must be seeing someone other than that prick, Marius. She's been so happy lately...look at her, she's glowing!" Both friends laughed as she choked on a swallow of soda, her face turning bright red.

"Come on, tell us who it is!" Elisabet begged teasingly as she tried to regain her breath.

"Its nobody...and Marius isn't a prick all the time..."

"Oh please! He's a prick royal!!" Crystal interrupted, waving off her attempt to steer the conversation away from her secret beau. "But, seriously. Who is this mystery guy?"

"Um..." she stalled, swirling the ice cubes around in her drink. How much should she say? How had they found out about him?! "Well...he's handsome. And dashing. A little old fashioned..."

"In short, perfect for you!" Crystal quipped, causing Elisabet to laugh again. "Oh, come on, I'm just teasing! Go on!"

"Angel...tell us!" Elisabet nudged her when she tried to stall again. "Tell us, or I'll use some of the anesthetic to knock you out and chop off your hands!"

"Then I'll draw with my nose." She replied dryly, making her friends laugh. "Alright, I'll tell you." She reluctantly gave in. "He's a few centimeters taller than I am, so that when we're face to face, I'm looking up slightly. His hair is always swept back, but is just long enough for a tiny ponytail, and is ebony black. His eyes are very warm and deep..." She found herself caught up in the mental picture of him, and sighed slightly.

"Sounds about right." Crystal smirked, copying her soulful sigh and making her blush. "He sounds luscious! What's his name?"

"...His name?" She repeated, blanching slightly. Of all the stupid things...

"You don't even know his name?! My word, Angel!! How long have you two been going out?" Crystal cried, slapping her on the arm slightly. Elisabet just sighed, burying her head into her crossed arms.

"Well, I met him about three months ago..." She admitted, blushing even deeper. Why on earth hadn't she asked his name?!

"Angel..." Elisabet groaned, whacking her other arm. "You moron! Why haven't you asked his name?!"

"I dunno...we usually don't call each other by our names...well, no, I lied." She smiled to herself. "He calls me Christine..."

"Awwwwwwwwwwww!!" Crystal and Elisabet cooed together, making her blush even more.

"Ok, shut up. Shut up now." She grumbled, standing up from the table. "I've got to get going...I have a meeting with---"

"Your mysterious Mr. lover-boy romantic!" Elisabet and Crystal continued, standing up as well. "Off to entangle yourself in the romance of the shadow-men! Oh, such loveliness as to not even know his name!"

"Shut up. ShutupShutupShutup." She grumbled as they linked arms with her.

"Aw---we're making her blush even more!!" Crystal laughed. She dropped her head to her chest, sighing deeply as both women on each side laughed louder.

Fifteen minutes later

"Enough, enough already!!" She shouted, waving at her friends before slamming the main entry doors of the Opera House shut. Stupid, stupid, stupid! How could she have ever forgotten to ask his name? What on earth was going through her mind when she was with him? Blushing, she rested her back against the cool surface of the door. She knew what had gone through her mind...how sensuous he was. How charming, how alluring, how exotic he was in his own world, separate from the harsh modern today.

Shaking her head, she knew that it would begin to bug her if she didn't find out his name. Stepping from the door, she quickly strode down corridor after corridor towards a trap door that would lead to the Opera House's basement. "Damn, damn, damn..." She whispered to herself, climbing down a set of stair that opened up into a plaster workshop. "Why did you have to bring it up? I would have never thought about it, and would have been perfectly happy in my ignorance..." Sighing again, she rapped twice on a hidden trapdoor before opening it and climbing down. "...stupid Crystal...stupid Elizabet...stupid darkness...oh, and stupid me! Why didn't I bring a light?!" Groaning to herself, she slapped the wall with the flat of her palm.

"That might hurt if you do it again..." A voice whispered from behind her, making her gasp in both fright and pain. Moving his hand away from his candle, the Phantom stepped closer to her, taking her hand in his. "Are you alright?"

"Hmm? Oh, my hand...ya, ya, great." She muttered, trying to stop the blush that crept across her face. He continued to examine her hand anyways, turning it over in his, gently caressing her fingers with his own.

"This is most unlike you...is there something on your mind?" He commented, guiding her down a side corridor towards his lair. She bowed her head briefly, allowing him to lead her through the darkness by the hand. As they approached the closed portcullis, he paused and turned back to her, waiting for her to answer.

"I really hate to admit this...but..." She shook her head. No, that wasn't the way to phrase it. He waited in silence, the raising of his eyebrow the only sign that he was feeling confused. "We've...we've known each other for three months now, right?" He nodded, feeling his stomach sink. This did not sound good to him... "And, well, we hang out a lot and...and feel for each other, right? I mean, I'm not the only one here that feels this way, right?" Her voice practically begged him to agree, to reassure her that he was in love with her, and he nodded again silently. "Well, I...um...I hate to admit this but...but...well, I don't...I don't know your name..." She finished quietly, her head bowed so her bangs would hide her eyes from him. He found himself staring at her, shocked out of words, and then began to laugh. She ducked her head even lower and turned to run away.

"No, no, shhhhh...its alright. I'm not laughing...Its not..." He reached out to her elbow in order to still her from leaving. She allowed him to stop her, but still wouldn't raise her head to him. Taking her chin in his hand, he gently guided her head back around and gazed, smiling kindly, into her eyes. "My name is Erik."

"With a 'K'?" She asked.

"Does it matter?" He feigned carelessness, but his heart soared with her response.

"To some people it does."

"Well then, yes, with a 'K'...and you're right. Some do care." She couldn't help but smile as he gave her a wink before turning to raise the portcullis. "Come, my Christine..." He beckoned her towards him, the golden glow of the lit candles flickering seductively behind him. She blushed again, and he laughed, drawing her into his lair. "You blush so easily..."

"I have good reason." She shot back, making him laugh again, and she joined in his laughter. "Do you have a new aria for me?"

"Who says they're for you?" He teased, raising an eyebrow in mock-exasperation.

"You did." She answered, passing him as she made her way towards the organ.

"I did? When?" He asked, confused. Did he give away one of his secret reasons for his music? She ran her fingers lightly over the ivory keys, then turned to grin at him over her shoulder.

"When you called me _your_ Christine." He laughed at her truth and came up behind her.

"Since you asked..." He smiled to himself, reaching around her to place his own fingers on the keys. She blushed as his fingers brushed over hers, and she closed her eyes as he began to play, stroking the keys to draw the angelic music from the very air around them. The cavernous lair filled up with his song and he suddenly realized how close they really were to each other. In fact, the whole room seemed to compress to that one spot, directly in front of the organ's keyboard. His heart pounded loudly in his ears, a drumbeat that did not match his organ-based aria. Squeezing his eyes shut, he focused on the music. Continuing the music and breathing normally. Breathing would be good.

"Its beautiful..." She whispered into his ear, her head tilted back to lounge over his shoulder.

"Its not finished yet." He admitted, licking his dry and cracked lips in nervousness. Stepping backwards quickly, he drew the bench closer so she could sit down. "I still need to finish it...but, if you like it..."

"I love it..." She exclaimed, sitting down and stretching her fingers back out over the keys, and turned slightly to smile up at him. "My Erik." His attempts to calm his breathing broke apart like a startled flock of doves and his heart pounded even harder than before. She reached out a hand to him and he took hers in his, allowing her to draw him down to the bench beside her. "...My Erik..." She repeated, smiling gently at him. Their eyes locked, both short of breath, and he gently took her face in his other hand. They drew closer, nearly close enough to kiss, when a shower of pebbles struck both of their head and shoulders.

"What on earth...?" He mumbled, raising a hand to the crown of his head and peering upwards at the ceiling, then stood to dash away, taking Christine with him. She gasped as he clutched her to his chest and they watched as another shower of rocks struck the organ bench. "Are you alright?" He asked, dusting the debris from her hair.

"Yes...you?" He nodded mutely, brushing off her, and then his own, shoulder. "What was all that about?"

"Someone must be stomping about in the second plaster workshop..." He replied distractedly. The showers seem to have ceased and he was wondering if there was a way to move the bench before they started up again. "But who on earth would be up in there?"

"I don't know, but do you think we can move that before they start it up again?" She asked, indicating his antique bench. Smiling to himself, he allowed her to aid him in removing the bench from the semi-dangerous area. "What?" She asked as they rested atop the bench.

"Nothing..." He replied, smiling to himself again. A third shower of pebbles struck the now barren floor and they sat in silence to watch.

"Oh shhhhiiiiii...erm, shoes." She bolted upright and clapped her hands to her mouth, changing her swear word into something more mild as a thought struck her. He raised an eyebrow and waited for her to explain, curious at the odd phrase. "I was suppose to meet Marius today! He must be the one up there...he's looking for me!!" Although he felt his heart become a crumbling stony knot, he stood and helped her upright.

"Then you must go and keep your meeting with him." He sighed. She took his offered hand, standing up and dusting off her jeans.

"Are you sure..." She left the unfinished sentence hanging in the air, a question that he wished to high heaven that he could refuse.

"I'm sure. You must...after all, an agreement is an agreement and should be kept as so." He walked her to the entryway, then handed her the previously used candle, relit just for her. Feeling his stomach sink lower and lower with his spirit, he watched her walk off into the surrounding gloom. Suddenly, just before her light was swallowed up by darkness, she turned back around.

"May I visit you again down here?" She called out to his silhouetted figure. The golden flickering light that came from behind him shifted as he raised a hand to wave.

"Anytime!!" He called back, feeling his spirits rise slightly.

He waited until he could no longer see the minute candle flame in the darkness, then turned to go back inside his lair. That mess of dust and stones needed to be cleaned up...what a jerk...

"What are you doing?!" She shrieked, coming around a large plaster-specific kiln and rushing up to Marius. She had left the candle at the topmost underground stair and had practically leapt through the trapdoor, allowing it to slam shut behind her.

"Shit, Angel! You scared the daylights out of me! What's the deal?" Marius asked, looking over at her. Marius was partially covered with white plaster dust from head to toe, with bits of frayed gunnysack material stuck to him. The urge to giggle was stifled by her shock and she just had to ask.

"What happened to you?" Marius frowned at the question and shrugged his shoulders, raising his hands slightly.

"I came looking for you, but when I couldn't find you upstairs, I came down here to look. I must have tripped over that rope, because I ended up in that pile of dust, face first." Marius pointed behind him, then went back to dusting himself off with a piece of rag. Peering behind him, she blanched slightly when she realized that the rope Marius had tripped over was tied in a hangman's fashion. "So, where we you?"

"Huh? Oh, I was...um...in the other plaster room." She lied quickly. Marius paused to shoot her an unreadable look then tossed the rag down. "Sorry. We must have just missed each other."

"Right...missed each other..." Marius grumbled, heading for the stairs. She followed the retreating shadow to the upper level, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. "Hey, look, why don't we head out to the hotel? I can shower and change and then we could go out for dinner."

"Right...um, about dinner..." She followed into the main opera room, groping for a reasonable excuse for saying 'no', one without hurting his feelings, and she knew that 'art' was no longer a workable excuse. Marius suddenly stopped and spun around, turning on her, face dark as the storm clouds outside the streaky windows.

"What is it with you? Huh? Seriously, what is it? We were close; really, really close," Marius reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. " And ever since we got to Paris, you've been...distant. Its like you don't care anymore..." She turned her face away from Marius as he let a finger trail down her cheek.

"We were distant before the trip." She murmured quietly, stepping back slightly. "You just never noticed..."

"Who is he?" Marius suddenly demanded, grabbing her wrist to stop her from moving away. She glanced up quizzically, completely confused. "Who is he?! I heard Crystal and Elizabet talking about some jerk you were seeing behind my back. So who is he?!" Marius demanded again sharply.

"...let me go..." She tried to pull her arm away, but Marius just squeezed harder. "Stop, you're hurting me, Marius..."

"Who is he?! Tell me!!" Yanking her closer, she let out an involuntary squawk of pain as she stumbled forward. "Tell me, damn it! Why are you being such a bitch?!"

"Let go! Marius, you're really hurting me! Let. Me. GO!!" Before she realized she what she was doing, she reached out and smacked Marius across the face. Pausing, then throwing her away against the wall, Marius put a hand to the red welt-like mark and swore darkly. She cradled her wrist to her chest and let out a small sob, watching wearily as Marius swore again menacingly.

She closed her eyes, the sound of bone hitting flesh cracking like thunder in her ears.


	17. Chapter 18

Warning: Slight language and really short chapter!

----Ch 18-----

He leaned in towards the organ as the music swelled and crescendo-ed. Eyes closed, entranced by the way the song flooded the cavernous space, head thrown back, he finished the piece. Yes. Yes, that was the way to end it...he opened his eyes to scribble the new notes on to the end of his aria. The perfect ending, the way the notes flew and then blended into the night...

Pausing in his addition, he felt the tingling sense of being watched. This was a new sensation, for who would be spying on the shadows of the dusk? But ever since his Christine had entered his life, he has learned how others felt when he watched them. Turning, he spied an ashen white figure at the portcullis, their fingers intertwined with the rusty mesh. "Christine?" He asked cautiously, for the figure looked more like a ghost than his beloved friend. She stood in the gloom, her white nightdress stark in the darkness. Her face was pale, contrasted by her long hair drifting across her face. Wide-eyed and wavering, she stood in the water, waiting for him to let her in. He let her in quickly, kicking at the lever as he jumped up from the bench to meet her in the water.

"There's a nasty storm upstairs...I was wondering if...if..." She murmured, keeping her head turned away from him.

"Of course, of course..." He reassured her, taking her by the shoulders gently and leading her towards the steps. As they reached the lighted area, he tried to take her chin in his hand and turn her face towards his. "Christine...?" As she looked at him with wide, scared eyes, a small involuntary gasp escaped his lips. Black and purple leered at him from around and below her left eye, and as he stared, she unconsciously covered the bruised portion of her face with her hand. "What happened?!"

"It's nothing...Marius and I had a...a little disagreement. A stupid little spat, really. It was over nothing and we both just kind of...blew up." She tried to reason it away, but as he continued to watch her, her eyes began to tear up. He wrapped her in his arms tightly, holding her close, wishing that he could skin that brat of a man whore alive.

"I am going to kill him." He hissed through clenched teeth, making her pull away. He glanced down, surprised at her insistent pushing at his chest, and reluctantly let go.

"You can't..." She protested weakly, grasping his arms gently, her eyes full of fresh tears. "I can't let you...put his blood on your hands..." His eyes widened at the fact that she was arguing for the bastard's safety not because she cared about Marius, but because she cared about him!

"That bastard hurt you." He warned her, lightly touching the side of her face. "I cannot let that go."

"But you are going to anyways." She sighed, resting her head against his chest again. "Trust me, once my friends see him, they'll know what happened. And then once they see me..." She shuttered and he wrapped his arms around her once more. "One is an up-coming doctor; the other is British born with one older brother and two younger ones. They both will throw a fit when they find out."

"Then they will take it to the police?" He connected the mental picture, a small hope of justice in his voice. "The law will take care of that ruffian?" She sighed again. "No?"

"If its even reported, all Marius would get is a very small fine..." She admitted. "Or, at the largest end of the scale, a night in jail. Nothing more."

"Nothing but a slap on the wrist!!" He exclaimed, outraged. She let out a small sob at the level of his voice, and he whispered gently to her. "No, no...shhhhhhh...alright, its alright...I wont let him hurt you ever again..."

"Promise me..." She whispered into his shirt's lapels and he stoked her hair, gently pressing a kiss into the crown of her head.

"Promise me, Erik..."

"I promise..." He reluctantly agreed, but knew in his heart that he could not, and would not, keep his promise. Continuing to stroke her hair to soothe away her tears, he began to sing softly.


	18. Chapter 19

* * *

----Ch. 19----- 

Night-time sharpens,  
heightens each sensation . . .  
Darkness stirs and  
wakes imagination . . .  
Silently the senses  
Abandon their defenses . . ._  
_

_Christine raises her head, recognizing the melody, and stares openly at his kind eyes. Encouraged by this, The Phantom takes Christine by the hand and leads her towards the middle of the room. She is more than willing to be lead by him and follows easily._

Slowly, gently  
night unfurls its splendor . . .

_The Phantom takes off his cloak and wraps it over Christine's shoulders in time with his words. She is mesmerized by both his words and actions._

Grasp it, sense it -  
tremulous and tender . . .  
Turn your face away

_The Phantom gestures in the air with one hand, as if to ward away the actual light. Christine follows the hand movement with her eyes, completely engages with what feels like a magical moment._

from the garish light of day,  
turn your thoughts away  
from cold, unfeeling light -

_Taking her chin in his hand gently, the Phantom turns her to face him once more; Christine stares back with wide eyes and then smiles kindly._

and listen to  
the music of the night . . .

_Christine watches as the Phantom steps backwards, away from her, for a few paces. He is also getting carried away in the moment._

Close your eyes  
and surrender to your  
darkest dreams!  
Purge your thoughts  
of the life  
you knew before!  
Close your eyes,  
let your spirit  
start to soar!

_The Phantom throws his head back and his arms are flung wide, completely wrapped up in his own melody. As he hits the sharpest note, the Phantom watches as Christine closes her eyes in rapture. This gesture fills his heart and causes the next three lines to be delivered with a wavering emotion._

And you'll live  
as you've never  
lived before . . .

_The Phantom begins to walk slowly (almost glide, really) back to Christine, who sank to the floor at the beauty of his note. She is still wearing his cloak wrapped around her._

Softly, deftly,  
music shall surround you . . .

_Encircling Christine, the Phantom wraps his arms around her and the cloak, dipping his mouth close to her ear and whispering the next two lines._

Feel it, hear it,  
closing in around you . . .

_Shifting suddenly, the Phantom crouches in front of Christine, hands gesturing as if suggesting the actual-ness of his words._

Open up your mind  
let your **fan**tasies unwind,

_He stresses the word, giving the impression that it is spelled with a "phan", making her laugh._

in this darkness which  
you know you cannot fight –

the darkness of  
the music of the night . . .

_The Phantom stands again, rising in front of her, as the song swells and his words gain volume. Christine is completely mesmerized, all tears gone._

Let your mind  
start a journey through a  
strange new world!

_Pacing away a few steps, the Phantom gestures wildly around them at the surroundings, smiling down at her._

Leave all thoughts  
of the world  
you knew before!  
Let your soul  
Take you where you  
long to be!

_The Phantom throws his head back again at the magnitude of his note. Christine also closes her eyes again, appreciating the sound. The note echoes around them and, as they share a tender glance, he feels his heart swell._

Only then  
can you belong  
to me . . .

_Allowing the wavering note to hang in the air for a moment, he reaches to her to help her stand up._

Floating, falling,  
sweet intoxication!

_He drew her to him, wrapping his arms around her once more. Christine reaches up behind her shoulder to stroke his cheek. The Phantom closes his eyes at her touch, completely moved._

Touch me, trust me  
savor each sensation!  
Let the dream begin,

_The Phantom spins her around the way dancers do, making her laugh again, and dips his head close again, emphasizing the word 'darker' in a teasing way._

let your darker side give in  
to the power of the music that I write-  
the power of the music of the night . . .

_As his song crescendos, the Phantom swoops down and picks her up into his arms. They laugh happily, Christine wraps her arms around his neck loosely as he spins them around. Carrying her in his arms, the Phantom climbs the spiral staircase to his curtain-enclosed bedroom. Gently laying her down in the swan-boat bed, he tucked the corners of the cloak up under her chin, and smiled serenely down at her._

You alone can make my song take flight-

Help me make the Music of the Night...

_The Phantom held the last note, allowing it to fade into the dimness of the dusky room, and watched over her as she began to fall asleep._


	19. Chapter 20

----Ch. 20-----

He yawned, waking up peacefully to the sound of Christine's angelic voice singing softly...or perhaps far away...or perhaps...

"Wait a min..." Erik sat up, realizing that he was no longer on the floor but in the swan-shaped bed. Something had fallen from off his chest when he had sat up sharply and, glancing down, he realized that it was his cloak. Looking about, he practically leapt from the silk-lined bed and raced to the stony steps' landing. Where had she gone? Had she left him after last night, gone to some other unknown place for comfort? He placed a hand to his mussed shirt, just over his heart, and then clapped it to his face. His mask!!

"I didn't peek." She suddenly said, and he realized that she was down by the water's edge, watching the boat rock in the infinitesimal current. Standing, she dusted off her hands on her jeans, and glanced up at him. "This morning...when I woke up...I realized that you had fallen asleep sitting up against the outer frame of the bed."

"...I was watching you sleep..." He agreed, nodding stupidly and making her smile kindly. He felt like a fool for a moment and started slowly down the stairs towards her.

"I felt bad for taking your bed, so I..." She shrugged, letting the obvious events speak for themselves. "Anyways, I didn't look."

"Why not?" He had to ask, cursing himself immediately afterwards. She just shrugged again as he approached.

"I dunno...I guess...I guess I figured that you'll tell me, erm, _show_ me when you're ready." She ducked her head as they drew close, blushing slightly. "Sorry if I woke you up...you know, with my singing."

"Not at all!" He allowed his mouth to ramble as his mind tried to catch up. They were so close, almost close enough, if only he could make his arms reach out, they could be even closer... "I love your singing. If only you had been born in my time...you would have been a natural opera star!" She blushed even deeper at his complement.

"Really?" She asked, gazing up at him and taking a step even closer. "Do you really think so?"

"I know so." He confirmed. His hand reached out to stroke her cheek gently, jerking it away when she winced slightly. "I am sorry." He repeated, taking her hands in his and, once realizing that she had been down by the water with a cloth press, took the wet cloth from her and pressed it to the bruising area. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be." She whispered as he blotted gently at the paling bruise.

"May I ask...?" He allowed the question to hang unfinished in the air. She seemed to consider it for a moment, then closed her eyes.

"He was jealous." She admitted finally. "Marius had overheard Crystal and Elizabet talking about...about us." She whispered the last part, blushing out of foolishness of something that she may be only wishing for.

"Us?" He asked quietly, pausing for only a second in his gentle bathing of her bruises. She swallowed hard.

"They...my two friends had noticed that I was...was happier than I had been in a long time. And they asked me over lunch...I'm afraid I told them a bit about you..."

"And why do you fear such actions?" He questioned calmly, cupping her chin in his hand for a brief moment, but his stomach dropped swiftly. Was it that she, like the others he had only briefly knew, was ashamed of him in his solitude?

"Well...I didn't know if you'd rather remain anonymous as you are to them or if you would...eventually...wish to meet them." She dipped her head slightly away from his hand, but could not tear her eyes from his. "That only occurred to me afterwards that you might have wanted to remain...a phantom?...to the outside world."

"These friend..." He stepped away past her to the lake's edge, bending to the water so he could rewet the cloth. He refused to turn and look at her over his shoulder, almost afraid to see the expression on her face. "Are they like family to you?"

"The only one I had left." She admitted. Her choice of words practically forced him to turn towards her. He cocked his head to one side as he approached her once more, biding her to explain. "Before I came here...before I..." She ducked her head so that her bangs fell into her eyes and refused to meet his glance. "My dad died when I was about seven...and it hurt. Bad. But my mom took it even harder and..." She glanced up at him for a second before looking away again. "Well, she started drinking. It was just a bit of liquor after hours at first, but then it started becoming a problem. Bar hopping, different guy every other day, it got really ugly..." She sighed, wrapping her arms around herself. "Anyways, since my dad is dead and my mum...intoxicated around the clock, my friends were the only ones who cared about me. They became my family. At least," She paused, smiling over at him. "They were the only ones who cared about me until I met you." He blushed a slight tinge, glad when she turned her head once again away.

"Allow me to become your family, then." He suggested on a whimsical urge, and yet meaning it wholeheartedly. She glanced up sharply and he, encouraged by this, took several steps closer. "I will care for you and never let anyone hurt you ever again. It can be just the two of us..." He took her by the shoulders gently, taking care not to squeeze her arms, but to lightly place his gloved hands as a firm suggestion to another reality. "Just us..." He repeated, and as he did so, he felt his stomach sink. No, he knew that she would never be able to stay with him, for him, for any length of proper time.

"Erik..." She whispered, gazing up into his brilliantly blue eyes and, in her own, he could read her desire to follow through with his suggestion. But they both knew that they were from different times...

"...I-I'm sorry..." He mumbled and turned, stepping back from her slowly, allowing his hands to softly trail down and away off her arms.

"No, Erik, wait." She pleaded, grabbing his hand at the last second. He turned back around sharply, gazing at her in wonder. "Could...could I at least stay down here with you for a few days? If...if it wouldn't bother you, that is..."

"...Of course. You are always welcomed here." He reminded her, his mind numb. Was she able to read his thoughts? Or, perhaps, she could simply read his eyes. And in them, she could find the compromise to heal his needs.

"Thanks...but I'm going to need to find another suitable bed down here. I'm not stealing yours from you again!" She smiled at him brilliantly, the first truly happy smile he had coaxed from her in a while. He smirked at her comment.

"One can't steal what is given to them..." He offered, making her laugh, and he grinned back. She was so radiant when she laughed, so incredibly alive. She reached for his hand, removing the dried cloth, and walked past him to re-wet it at the lakefront. Watching her retreating form, he allowed himself to become lost in his own thoughts in the meantime.

"I'm serious though. I will not allow you to fall asleep on the stone floor again. Its stone, for pete's sake!" He shook his head, gazing at the jagged ceiling as she bent to the lake's edge, reminding himself that she was going to be this way for a while. She made it sound like there was a choice in the matter...

"I'll see what I can do." He finally agreed, and as she stood back up with the cool cloth pressed gently to her face, he really hoped and prayed that she could not read his mind. If she could, she would most likely hit him for the sleeping arrangements that ran briefly through his head.

"What?" She asked suddenly, gazing at him with her one clear eye.

"Hm?" He asked mutedly, raising his eyebrows in mock-confusion. She just continued to stare at him unblinkingly.

"You were staring."

"So are you." He countered.

"No, I mean you were staring as if you had something on your mind." He felt heat rush to his face and prayed she didn't notice. "Like you had an idea or were working on a piece in your mind." He sighed, relieved, making her crease her face into an appearance of utter confusion. "Should I be wondering what you're doing?"

"Don't worry." He smiled to himself, standing and pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Everything is perfect."

"Uh-hu. Now I know I should wonder..." She jested, watching as he wandered to his organ. His secret grin widened, and as he sat at the musical apparatus, she grew quiet in appreciation of his talents. "New bit?" She asked after a while, and he suddenly realized that she was standing almost directly behind him.

"...A work in progress..." He admitted, playing around with a few notes. Her arm suddenly reached over his, placing her fingers over his, and pretended to guide his hands. He smiled, dancing his fingers over the ivory keys, laughing as she tried to keep up. "Aspiring to become an organist?" He teased. "You'll have to better than that!"

"Organist? I can hardly find middle C!" She laughed and, as he twisted around to wrap his arms around her waist, allowed him to seat her beside him on the bench.

"Well, we'll have to find a way to fix that..." He teased, brushing her bangs behind her ear, enjoying it when she blushed. "Wont we?"

"I doubt anyone could have the commitment, or the time, to teach me." She shot back, knowing immediately by the look in his eyes, that he would relish the chance to take her up on that bet.

"Lets just see..." He agreed and turned her to face the keys. Standing up to place himself behind her, he leaned over and took up the playful position that she, herself, had occupied only moments before. "This is the first octave," He coached her, pressing her fingers to the ivory keys lightly and creating a chord. "This is the second...and this," He teased, taking her index finger and lowering it to a single key, producing a note. "This is middle C." She laughed quietly and blushed even deeper as he rested his chin on her shoulder. "Now, the scale is simple." He whispered into her ear, setting her hands into the neutral position once more. "C, D, E, F, G, A, B and C again." They played the middle scale over and over together, and he was reluctant to remove his hands from hers. It wasn't that she was terrible at this; on the contrary, she was quite good and had yet to hit a single improper note. No, it was the pleasant heat that he felt between the back of her hands and his own palms that made it so hard to release her and step back. "That was very good." He praised her, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. "Perhaps you are not as bad as you made yourself out to be?" She blushed lightly again and he laughed.

"What?" She asked, giving him a shy but welcoming grin. She knew full well what he was laughing about, which made him laugh even harder.

"Come on, I'm not that easy to make blush!!!"

"Oh, but you are!" He told her in between chuckles, sweeping her up onto her feet, and, taking her hands in his, began to waltz with her. She started to laugh as well as they took great sweeping strides with their dance pattern. "It is as easy as...well, a glance." He suggested, gazing down slightly to give her a darkly pleasant look, which made her laugh louder. "Or a look. Or even, dare I say it? A kiss?" With that, he dipped his head those last few centimeters and brushed his lips to hers ever so lightly.


	20. Chapter 21

----Ch 21-----

She gazed deeply into his startling blue eyes, shocked at his bold actions, ones that he was beginning to regret. He was in the mist of wondering whether or not to make a break for it (but where would he run to?!) when she inched forward to place a petite kiss on his own lips.

"There, now I've made you blush." She whispered in their stunned silence and he laughed.

They spent the rest of the day---and most of the night, for there is no distinction between the two in his underground lair---playing around and practicing on his organ, both blushing when one set of eyes met another. Eventually, she began to nod off and finally her head drooped onto his shoulder. He turned slightly, careful not to disturb her too much and eased her off the organ's bench, attempting to lift her into his arms.

"Huh...no. No, I'm awake." She murmured, lifting a hand limply to brush her bangs away from her eyes. "Awake." She repeated, making him smile.

"You should go to bed." He whispered. Blinking, her face twisted into a stupor, she gazed blankly up at him. "You are exhausted."

"Wow...your eyes are...blue." She finally commented. Trying to keep himself from laughing, Erik merely raised an eyebrow at this remark.

"Come on, up now." He replied, helping her to stand and slowly make their way towards what passed as his bedroom.

"No, not just blue, I mean...blue. Blue-blue. Like, really blue. Really." She continued, clutching at his arm as they walked up the stone steps. "Really."

"I believe you." He finally interrupted her kindly. Easing her down onto the swan-shaped bed, he brushed his fingers lightly through the edge of her fluttery hair and smiled. "Really."

"Really." She repeated, smiling back up at him. "Don't let me steal away your bed again." She teased, leaning upwards to loosely wrap her arms around his neck, gently pressing a small kiss to his lips. She fell back to the satin-like sheets with a tiny smile and, as she gazed up at him tenderly, yawned sleepily."...it isn't fair, you know...not fair..."

"What's not?" He asked, puzzled for a moment, at her fading comments.

"Me stealing your...your bed...leaves you...leaves you... nothing..." She finally fell asleep with that last word, leaving Erik to stare, stunned, at the sleeping woman. As he continued to watch her sleep, he suddenly became aware that tears were coursing down his cheeks silently. He brushed them away roughly, fisting his knuckles into the eyehole of his mask, then clasped a hand to his exposed half.

"Oh, why are you so beautiful?" He wept quietly into his hand. "Why are you so beautiful and why do you indulge poor hideous Erik so? You, and angel among mortals, butterfly among worms, indulge Erik so! You hear the beauty in my voice and close your eyes, content with what is beside the mask. But not once do you ask! One day, you will ask, you will beg and plead---please!---for me to remove my mask. And I will, because I love you so, you beautiful Angel of Night and of music and sound! And that will be the day you will leave me forever..."

He continued to weep quietly in the darkness, feeling a confusing mixture of being so much alone while still with company.


	21. Chapter 22

When she awoke, her phantom night-watcher was nowhere to be found. A gentle melody drifted throughout the cavernous space, indicating where he was. She felt the music stir at her spirit as she slowly made her way to the musician, the heavy sadness in the air unexplained.

"You should return to above." He spoke suddenly, not allowing her to reason with him, and when her sputterings abated, he continued. "Your friends—--your family--—they will be missing you. They will be worried for your safety and fear for your health. You must console them, let them know that you are alright."

"But...I don't want to go just yet..." She murmured, her hands gripping her upper arms tightly, suddenly chilled at the thought of leaving this magical refuge.

"You have your family. You should go to them." He refused to look over his shoulder at her, afraid he would began to cry again. "At least let them know that you are alright." He repeated.

"...May I come back, then?" She asked, making him tense at the suggestion of her voluntary return. If she did, perhaps she would stay with him...forever...? No. He banished such hopes from his mind. "After they know I'm fine?"

"...Perhaps." He finally replied. "Take a candle. The northern passageway will be lit for you. Follow it until you come to a trap door. It will open up to a stage room, just below the stage itself. From there, you should be able to find your way to the grand hall. You know this Opera House almost as well as I." His voice lightened the depressing mood slightly with his complement. "You should have no troubles." Picking up the candle from atop the organ, he finally turned towards her. She reluctantly took it from him, letting her fingers linger over his. The lump that was forming in his throat swelled and he suddenly could no longer breathe. As he watched her retreating form, he longed to reach out, to cry out, and stop her from leaving him; but he may have been made of stone for all the good it did him. Finally, before the darkness swallowed both her and the candle's flame, she turned back to him.

"If I were to come back, do you want me back?" She called out to him. Lurching slightly, he grasped the edge of the organ with shaking hands.

"Yes, yes, with all my heart; yes!" He cried back, the pain of his want evidenced in his voice. Lunging forward, he set the portcullis' workings into motion, bringing it crashing down into the water and barricading the passageway's entry to his lair. Collapsing to the cobble-stoned floor, he rested his forehead to his knees and willed his heart to stop pounding, fearing it was to burst.

Making her way in the semi-darkness, she paused at a crossroads of passageways. He had said that the way would be lit for her...

"There it is." She scolded herself out loud. The way _was_ lit. She was just a tad preoccupied. As she wandered down the stony way, she kept hearing his last words echoing in her mind..._'Yes, yes, with all my heart; yes!'_. He had basically told her that he loved her...right? That was what he meant, wasn't it? That he wanted her to return, to stay with him again...but what if...

Her head slammed into a rather hard object, bring her thoughts back to the present. "...ow." She commented lightly, raising one hand to her head, the other with the candle to the object she just ran into.

Just above the crown of her head, a beam of light outlined a trapdoor and the end of the passageway. Ducking her head, she pushed against the door with her shoulder, and it relented with a creaking groan. Setting the candle on the top most stair, she stepped out into the dusky room and closed the door once more. Sighing, she stretched the kinks out of her back and wondered how upset her friends would be once they found her.

"Angel?" She heard Elisabet's voice call down from the level above and a light flooded the stairwell. "Crystal, over here...I think I heard someone down here!!" Sighing again, she waited calmly as the two women thundered down the wooden steps to the stage room and rushed to quickly embrace their lost friend.

"Holy---Angel! Where have you been?! We've been all over this stupid place for three bleedin' days and couldn't find you!! Look at your face!" Crystal squawked, shining the flashlight directly into her face, blinding her.

"Its not that bad...plus, violet seems to be the color for this winter season..." She joked.

"Tell us about it! When Marius came back to the hotel with his lip swollen, forehead cut and his nose practically broken...well, we kinda figured what happened..." Elizabet finished lamely.

"Take a look at you!!" Crystal raged, taking a step towards her, making her take a swift step back. "Your eye is fucking purple!! Your forehead is purple! Your cheekbone is purple!"

"Actually, it's a pale off-purple." She joked again. "Since its been three days, the coloring has had a chance to wear off...right?" She chanced a glance behind her friends, into the shadows, wondering if there was a hidden alcove where her phantom beau might be hiding and if she might be able to hide as well. "Right?" She repeated, her voice slightly quieter.

"Christine Angel DeRoset-Giry, where have you been?!" Crystal demanded. She winced, casting her gaze back to her friends.

"Here...erm...I've been around, trying to...walk it off." She thought hard, trying to find an evasive answer that would pass as something acceptable.

"You should come to the office with me to check on that bruising." Elizabet told her, interrupting Crystal's fuming.

"By office, you mean the hospital, don't you." She groaned as both friends took her by the arms and led her up the stairs. "Yes, you mean the hospital. You know, I'm really doing fine, so I don't think that I really need to go..."


	22. Chapter 23

----Ch 23-----

"...I told you, I'm fine. I don't need a vacation." She whined at her two friends, who were continuing to pack suitcases without bothering to acknowledge her words. "I don't need to go."

"You've been saying that for the last two days." Crystal replied in a parent-talking-to-a-child manner, folding up a pair of red long johns with little black bats printed on them. "But your doctor at the hospital told you, two days ago, that this trip would be good for you."

"My doctor is a loon." She grumbled.

"Thank you." Elizabet quipped with a grin. "Now, you are going on this trip with us whether you like it or not. So, you can either pack, or you can go stark. Your choice."

"Great choice of words." Crystal grinned at Elizabet, who grinned back.

"Been hangin' around you way too long." Elizabet confessed in a teasing manner, then turned back to her sullen friend. "Look, you're coming. So go and get your gear."

"Its all at the Opera House." She said, suddenly struck with an idea. "I'll go get it and be back in half an hour."

"Better be exactly half an hour." Crystal warned, using a pair of rolled up socks as a threatening blunt object. "Or we'll storm the doors and drag you out by your ankles."

"Half an hour. Promise." She laughed, dashing out the door. As she jogged down the street to the Opera House, she reflected on the last couple of days. Her friends had taken her to the hospital, true to their word, and she had gotten a handful of x-rays taken. But that wasn't the _only_ thing taken at the hospital, as Crystal put it. Apparently, their Elizabet was smitten to the point of falling in love with one of the senior-leading doctors!! Shaking her head, she couldn't help but grin to herself. Elizabet and this...Gringoire character. He was tall...if she had to guess, 6' 2"...but didn't seem that intimating. He was very gentle when checking her bruises and had a sense of humor that kept her rolling her eyes. In other words, perfect for Elizabet. Chuckling to herself as she reached the Opera House doors, she had to admit, Gringoire's long and thick dark curly hair was rather sexy...

Throwing the doors of the Opera House wide open, she ran through the upper levels down to the trapdoor in the stage room, and rushed down the passageways towards her own hidden love. As the glow of countless candles became brighter, she slowed to a trot, panting slightly to herself. Music drifted through the open archway and she wandered into the cavernous room quietly, as so not to disturb him.

"Erik..." She spoke quietly, then stopped, as if afraid to spoil the ghost tones that still reverberated in the air. Crossing the stone- worked flooring, she placed her hands gently on his curved shoulders. "Erik," She whispered low, bending her head towards his own. "I have to go away for a while." He said nothing in reply, his bowed head hiding his expression from her. "My friends...they know what happened between Marius and I. They said that I have to go with them on holiday, up to the mountains..." He still was silent, and she felt a weight press deep in her chest, making it hard to breath. What if he was upset she hadn't come back to him sooner? What if he was somehow mad at her? Why wouldn't he _say_ anything?! "It would only be for a week...eight or nine days at the most!...Erik, please, say something." She finally begged him, her voice hitching in her throat.

"How are you?" He murmured finally, much to her confusion. He straightened, turning to look up at her eyes, his own brimming with concern and subdued tears. Stretching out a hand, he cupped her chin with his palm and thumb, feathering out his fingers to mask the skin around the white patch bandages. "All of this you have told me, but I have heard nothing that I wanted to know. How are you?"

"I...I'm fine. There was very little to be done, the doctors said it was mostly surface bruising." She replied, blushing slightly at his touch. He nodded, then shifted to the side, giving her a place to sit next to him on the bench. She sat, folding her hands in her lap and stared at them, not wanting to say what came next, wishing it wasn't true. But it was.

"...I have to go away, Erik." She repeated, tears threatening to spill clouded across her eyes, blurring her vision. "And I'm scared." He looked at her silently, then leaned forward and drew her close. She hesitated for only seconds, then felt everything she had been telling herself, all the lines about how she should keep her cool and try to distance herself from what might one day be a very long distance relationship, it all fell apart in her mind. Wrapped in his arms, safe and warm, the tears ran down her cheeks and she cried. "I don't want to leave you, Erik. Not alone...not for so long..." she sniffled, winding her fingers in the folds of his shirt. He shushed her kindly, rubbing his cheek against her forehead and pressed chaste kisses to her scalp.

"...I have been alone for much, much longer than nine days." He murmured, his tone distracted momentarily, then he smiled softly in her hair. "Nine days will be nothing to my eternity, especially since I know that you will be coming back to me that day." She rested there against him, listening to his heartbeat beneath the silky cloth, and blinked away the tears. They sat there, together, for minutes that seemed like an eternity of peace, then she sighed.

"My friends will hunt me down with torch and pitchfork if I don't show up back at the hotel soon. They only let me come back here to grab some stuff from my room..." She sniffed, brushing at the dried remainders of her tears absentmindedly. "But I couldn't bear the thought of going away without telling you...without saying...saying..." Unable to say the word, she started to sob again quietly, and he pushed her away gently to arms length.

"No more tears. No goodbyes." He spoke softly, and wiped the tears away with his thumbs. Leaning forwards, he looked into her eyes. "You will return soon. No goodbyes are to be said...simply, see you again soon."

"See you again soon..." She echoed like an obedient child, and he smiled at her.

"Again soon." He agreed and pressed his lips softly against her own. She wrapped her arms around his neck, accepting the kiss and giving a little in return. They broke apart reluctantly.

"...I should go..." She murmured, and he nodded. As she stood to leave, so did he, and he walked with her to her room in the upstairs opera house without saying a word.

They were both comfortable in their silence.


	23. Chapter 24

----Ch. 24----

"I'm Dreeeeeeeeeeeeeaming! Of a Whiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiite Christmas!" Crystal belted out, arms thrown wide, as if to take in the entire scene before her. Standing knee-deep in suitcases, Crystal was doing very little to help pack the van the group would be using for the weeklong get-away trip, much to the dismay of the rest of the group.

"It's going to be nothing but white if we don't get outta here soon!" Elizabet grumbled, stacking a few suitcases in the van's trunk. "Nothing but white-out conditions if that stupid storm hits before we get up to those cabins…"

"Do not worry, mon petit chat." Gringoire said, his English still rich with his French accent, as he aided Elizabet with the final packing. "We'll beat the storms by a long shot."

"Yah…I hope…" Elizabet sighed, then turned to the rest of the group. "Well, that's the last one. Everyone ready to go?"

"Did you just call me your little cat?" Elizabet asked teasingly, following Crystal into the van.

"Oui." Gringoire laughed, climbing behind the wheel. "An' now ist everyone in?"

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, and yes." Elizabet laughed, throwing the last of the suitcases into the back of the van. Nudging her friend, she said, "Ready to go, Christine?"

"Uh? I mean, yeah, sure, I'm ready to go." She stuttered, blinking.

"Heh, Christine was thinking about her mysterious beau!" Crystal laughed.

"Lets just get on the road already." She retaliated, blushing. Truthfully, she had been thinking about poor Erik. She hated leaving him alone like this, even for only such a short time. Nevertheless, she could not convince him to leave his underground home, and he could not convince her to stay.

Climbing into the van, her heart ached as she watched the scenery and the opera house slide past as they drove away. Sighing to herself, she slid her headphones on and closed her eyes, letting the music take her away to dreamland.

The next thing she knew, it was dark and someone was shaking her shoulder. They turned the CD-player off, waking her up.

"Hey, wake up, sleepyhead." Elizabet called softly, teasing slightly. "And no mutterings in the world will make me go away.""Where are we?" She asked, her mouth rubbery with sleep.

"At the lodge, of course!" Elizabet laughed. "Come on, everyone is off and unloaded already. We wanted to let you sleep as long as possible, but enough already."

"Umhm...ok..." She stretched, rubbing at her eyes. Stumbling from the van, she looked up to the lodge. It glowed, backlit by the sunset, and looked beautiful surrounded by the snow.

"Here." Elizabet said, handing her backpack to her, and together, they started up the hill to the lodge. Once inside, she could see that the room was brilliantly lit, the interior decorated with deep greens and rich reds, full of happy people talking. The noise was a loud chatter, making her cover her ears briefly, until she adjusted.

"Sure is loud in here." She said to Elizabet, nudging her friend with her elbow.

"Busiest time for this lodge!" Elizabet laughed, nudging back. They met up with Crystal, who led them upstairs to the hotel rooms. "Everyone has to bunk up, but there is us three in one room, three of the guys in the second room, and then the last two in the third room down the hall."

"Cool." She nodded, and set her bag on one of the beds. "You two going out to ski already?" She asked as her friends donned ski gloves and boots.

"Well, dua! That's why we're up here!" Crystal laughed. "You coming?"

"Not this time. But thanks." She replied, sitting on the edge of her bed. "Maybe next time." As her friends left, she found herself longing for Erik. Looking out the window into the dusky night, she wondered what he was doing…


	24. Chapter 25

Sorry for the long delay on this (short) chapter...but now the school semester is over, and I'll be back on track! This chapter is a dedicated to Theatergeek145 over at Deviantart, the real Elizabet. I promised her a certain scene about two or three years ago, and I'm a wee late on delivering...but I hope you like it!!!! Please enjoy everyone...and have a very Merry Christmas!

* * *

The snow danced across the grounds, flurries blowing this way and that, casting a fine silk sheet of ice across the world outside. Look out the icy windows, he nursed a warm cup of brew, grateful that he did not live life outside his opera walls. He mused on the cold night, wondering what his Christine was up to at that very moment. Could she be laughing with her friends, warm and cozy inside? Perhaps she was braving the elements, finding beauty in the exhaustion and rosy cheeks of winter games. No matter what she was doing, it cast a spell of sadness over his mind that she was not here, doing it with him. 

_meanwhile_

She was quite glad to be indoors, watching the snow flurries blow across the gray terrain from a warmer disposition. She smiled, thinking of how her friends were so eager to run out and be in the winter storm. They had been just as eager to return, only an hour later, as the sky grew darker with the oncoming snowstorm.

"Christine!" Elizabet called out, laughing, tearing away from a group of people near one of the fireplaces and approached her beside the window. "Come on, silly! I know it's pretty stormy out there, but that doesn't mean it has to be the same in here! Come have some hot chocolate and join the party..."

"Heh...thanks." She replied, taking the warm mug from her friend and sipping gingerly. "I dunno...I'm just a little tired, I guess."

"Sure you aren't just pining away for your mystery man?" Elizabet teased with a wink.

"Its just..." She felt her cheeks burn brightly in embarrassment for being so readily pinpointed. "It's just that its like I'm the only family he has..."

"No worries!" Elizabet replied, laughing again at someone's antics over near the fireplace. She turned as well, watching as some of the guys from their original class continued goofing off. "Oh, hey, have you seen Gringoire anywhere?"

"Mm." She replied noncommittal. "I thought I saw him a little while ago, something about setting something up?"

"Yeah, well..." Elizabet shrugged, then paused. "Oh, there he is!" Crossing the room, Elizabet approached her tall, dark-haired Frenchman, but stopped short seeing his jubilant and mischievous expression.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Gringoire spoke over the noise, and the crowds grew hushed, turning to look their way. "I would ask but only a second of your time...just wondering if you wouldn't mind holding your tongues just long enough to loose my own." Gringoire looked down to Elizabet, smiling gently. "My dear Elizabet, our time has been but two months short of a year, and I fear all that time I have yet to say what I truly meant to. Ever since I first laid eyes on you, the sun has risen and the moon has set with only you in mind. I would humbly ask that you be there, beside me, in person, to continue watching them." Gringoire withdrew his hand from his pocket, bending down on one knee, and smiled up at his love. "Elizabet, will you do me the greatest honor of all...and become my wife?"

The room was silent for a moment.

"Yes!" Elizabet cried happily, throwing her arms around his neck and drew him close for a lovers kiss. The room howled and laughed, shouting cheers and congratulations as they clapped for the announced union.

She smiled at Elizabet and Gringoire from off to the side, raising her warm mug in a toast to them. She was so happy for them, her heart swelling for her friend's joy. But she could not help but hurt a little. As she nursed her drink, listening to the crowd return to the usual loud pitch, she suddenly realized that what she told Elizabet wasn't just a simple admittance, but an awful truth. She _was_ the only family that he had now, as far as she knew, and she had just_left_ him there! She closed her eyes, feeling overwhelmed.

* * *

"Do not open until the 25th?" He read out loud to himself, confusion set in his mind, then glanced at the window. Was today the day? Without his Christine, he has no sense of time; save for the countless hours he was alone. Shrugging his shoulders at the frosty reflection of his masked self in the window, he began to unwrap the package. With shaking hands and a puzzled expression, he withdrew a faded bit of parchment from the wrappings. Beneath it was a second note, which he read out loud in a suddenly wavering voice. "This here entitles you, the holder, to the Opera Popular and all that its deed entitles..." He set the second note down for a moment, trying to clear his head, then picked it back up to reread it. "This here...This...the deed?" He glanced at the faded parchment in his other hand, scanning the words, then looked from note to parchment over and over. "The deed? You gave me the deed to the..." Tucking the parchment beneath the note, he read the note out loud one last time, noticing a last part he had not seen the first two times in his shock. "Now it really is _your_ Opera House. Merry Christmas, Erik. Love, Christine." Setting the handwritten note back down on the crinkling wrappings, he closed his eyes and took a rattling deep breath. She had giving him possibly the greatest thing in the world, save for her love. This single present...no. He opened his eyes again, gazing fondly at the deed. No, this wasn't the only thing she had given him. She had given him kindness, joy, even possibly her love. The signature in the letter made his heart soar at the prospect of the implications. Those single two words opened so many doors in his world, and perhaps, she might truly become his.

"Merry Christmas..." He whispered, closing his eyes against the threatening spill of tears, and pressed his lips to the tip of the paper.


	25. Update: poll

To my readers:

You have all been so patient with me. These last couple of years have been very rough, now more than ever, and last night, I was going through my various website accounts, deleting things in a way to tidy up in my depression. I had almost forgotten about FanFiction, but, when I saw all of your comments on my "Phantom" story, despite all this time, it really helped me get through the night.

I might even go as far as to say you guys saved my life.

I wish I could thank each and every one of you and the only way I can think of is to finally give you what you deserve: a complete "Phantom" story. However, you guys deserve better than what I have already posted. The early chapters were from many, many years ago and really lack a lot of description and (well, let's admit it) skill.

My question to anyone reading is this:

Should I go ahead and rewrite the early chapters and then continue on?

Or

Should I just press forward without regards to what has been posted before?

Please leave a comment, letting me know.

3


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